#how do they expect me to be normal about this

[ceesimz]

Highs and Lows

Your past is your past, but your future is hers. (angst -> fluff)

After everything you’d been through in the past, you always thought you would end up alone. Every failed relationship was another sucker punch to your heart, causing cracks that allowed doubts and insecurities to leak through into your mind, forming iced walls to your soul no one could melt to get to you.

“Perdoni? Vinc a buscar el meu vestit.”

Her voice was so warm, so polite, when she first spoke. How her accent wrapped around her mother tongue was smooth and welcoming, like it didn’t matter that you were about to disappoint her upon first greeting. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Catalan.” 

She met you with a forgiving smile, shaking her head and waving her hand to brush off your apology. 

“Está bien. Uh, my… my suit? I pick it up?” 

The suit wasn't ready for pickup at that time, a mixup between you and the owner of the small tailor shop you worked at who had seemingly gotten a bit too festive the night before and forgotten to do the schedule for the day. So she stayed and chatted with you as you did it, which was actually very helpful since she could try on her blazer that needed the most work doing, though it was more her asking you questions and you giving her curt responses than an actual, normal conversation. You couldn't help it, it had become second nature to you at this point. People had betrayed your trust in all kinds of ways before, and it was sure to happen again.

It was Christmas Eve when you met her, but it took some time before you really let her in.

“So, I ask you, will you be my Valentine?” 

That day, the thirteenth of February, when she'd come in with a dress that needed adjusting slightly for her sister, she was a woman on a mission. Alexia wasn't used to people shutting her down when she had her mind set on something, and since you were the first to tell her otherwise, she knew you were the one.

“How many times do I have to tell you I won't go on a date with you? I'm not looking for relationships or even friendships right now.” 

She was kind. Compassionate. Every time she spoke, you couldn’t help but hang on to every word she said. That didn’t mean you were falling for her tricks though. Your walls were up, and they were high. You didn’t know a thing about her, and her you, but she was like a dog with a bone. Sometimes, you feared she had bad intentions with it. That’s the kind of roads your mind took you on.

“Okay, no Valentine. But, coffee? Conmigo?”

Why was she so adamant to get to know you? Just some nobody that worked at a tailor shop, spending hours on the nights you couldn’t sleep drawing and designing all kinds of clothes that’d never see the light of day outside your notebook. Judging by how she dressed, she was definitely comfortable financially, at least. She had good taste, and dressed in a way that exemplified her mindset and who she wanted to be. With every smart coat and fresh out-of-the-box pair of trainers she wore, you felt like you got a peek inside her mind each time you saw her. Then there was you, dressed down and comfortable for a day sat in front of a sewing machine and a desk.

“I told you, I don’t want to.”

Alexia remembered vividly the day she first heard you laugh. The sound of it made her laugh too, not because she found it funny, but because she got such a burst of euphoria out of it that it was her body’s natural instinct to react like that. All day and every night, you were on her mind. And, something that was completely out of character for her, she found herself looking for excuses to come to the tailor shop just to see you.

“Hm. People do not say no to me. I will keep trying, lo prometo.” 

A tap on the counter, and she left after that. 

As you expected, she kept to her word; the next day, she brought the coffee to you. Four coffees, actually. One without milk, one with normal milk, one with almond milk, and one with oat milk, just so she could find out what was your favourite.

“I don’t drink coffee. Of any kind, with any milk.”

That was the day you laughed for the first time, you couldn’t help it, the way her face fell after you revealed your secret was way too funny to not laugh. She feigned disapproval when you went into the backroom, grabbed a sharpie and a square of cardboard, and wrote ‘free coffee with every pickup!’ on it to put on the counter.

Though, you came to a realisation that day, one that kept you up through the night. She was the first person in years that actually stayed true to their promise. So maybe you did crack a little then, and when she walked in the next day to collect what she’d left the previous morning, you handed her the cardboard with your number on the back. Hardly two minutes passed after she left before your phone pinged. 

For a few days, instead of her coming to you as you learned she was travelling for work, the pair of you exchanged texts. All day long. Sometimes, all night long too. There was just… something about her that pulled you in. You were tired of resisting that. 

“So I see you tomorrow? I will pick you up. With, with flowers! Hasta mañana, cariño!” 

The excitement that radiated off of her as she scurried out of the shop, late for work, after you caved and took her up on her offer for dinner together was addictive. Her smile was a beautiful one, you’d come to realise, and you wanted to see it everyday whenever you could. Someone hadn’t shown this amount of interest you in… ever. You had hoped it’d be different this time around- surely she wouldn’t disappoint you like everyone else, you’d think. 

There was a brightly coloured bouquet in her arms when she met out outside the shop when your shift had finished. By that point, you’d known her for a number of months now, and as you ate dinner and talked, laughed, smiled, with her that evening over some of the best tapas you’d ever had, you felt bad that she had to wait so long.

You decided, there and then, you were going to be more proactive about your feelings which had been there since the first day she walked in. Repressing them was only preventing you from exploring something that could be your whole future. 

“I… I really want to kiss you goodnight. Can I kiss you?”

Never did you think that the beautiful blonde woman who showed up on a cloudy Sunday morning would be the one to make you break all the rules you’d made for yourself. They weren’t rules, really. They were insecurities you told yourself were rules, because you believed them so wholeheartedly that you never thought they’d be snapped in half by someone like her. Someone that started buying oversized clothes, trousers that were too long or suits with sleeves too loose for her liking, just so she could see you.

“You can kiss me goodnight, Ale.”

Takes one small mistake for a good thing to be ruined. 

You didn’t know exactly what she did for work. You knew she worked in the sports industry, but that was it. You never really asked in detail what she did, you didn’t want to talk about your job so when she said the same thing, who were you to deny her of that?

So, imagine your surprise, when you’re at your friend’s house, only to see Alexia on the TV, bowing in a stadium of almost one hundred thousand spectators that chanted her name. Alexia, the slightly shy and quietly confident woman that took any excuse to meet up with you, was someone else entirely.

“My job… it’s not that important. There are more, ah, interesting topics to talk about.”

That wasn’t the truth. She had lied to you, about her job, about who she really was. 

Even in the four walls of your friend’s home, the sheer amount of people began to make you feel overwhelmed. You’d never seen that many people in your life, nevermind in one place. But Alexia? It was just any other day at work, obviously. For you, it was just another day where someone you trusted turned around and betrayed you.

The night before, she kissed you for the first time. It was something you couldn’t ever forget, and the resentment towards yourself began to set in as you sat there on the sofa, watching this stranger run up and down the grass pitch, you far from her mind. From the colours she wore that matched the ones by the winning team by the scoreline in the top corner, she was doing well. And you were happy for her. 

You didn’t know a thing about football, and that was yet another thing to add to the list of differences between you both. Alexia, confident, controlled in everything she does, determined. You, lost in your life, lost in yourself, and unmotivated. 

“Can’t be worse than mine, right?”

That night, after you went home, hands shaking and chest heaving with short, panicked breaths as you walked, you turned your phone off. You didn’t want to hear from her, and you knew she would text you before she went to sleep. 

When you got into bed, you didn’t feel a thing. You lay on your back, eyes unmoving from the ceiling above, and simply sighed. All those months ago, you knew you should have stuck to your rules. Getting close to her and letting her in was the reason why you were hurting now, it was all your fault that you were left like this.

Yet, you didn’t feel a thing, in the end, you were just… numb. 

“Why did it take you so long to go on a date with me?”

This was something you were used to now, a dance you knew every step to. The end result was different, however, because it had happened so often that it never surprised you anymore. It had just been a matter of time. 

No tears were shed, no anger was held, there was nothing but emptiness. Every second since that first meeting on Christmas Eve had been taken up by Alexia, whether that was her physical presence in front of you or the daydreams in your mind. Now, there was only regret, as you thought over every moment with her. The feel of how her hand felt in yours was substituted with coldness, the same chill that encased your heart again. The taste of her lips, how soft they felt against yours, was something you got to experience once. This aftermath was worth that. Nothing could ever compare to it.

“I… I have a past. I don’t want history to repeat itself. I guess I was just… scared.” 

It was foolish to have admitted that to her. You didn’t intend to, it was more a moment of weakness. Her arms were around you, your back to her chest as you lay together on her couch in the comfortable darkness of her living room only a few nights before she kissed you. The admission was out in the open before you could stop it, and you hated the fact she had heard you say that and still continued to lie to you. You had no idea how the woman you thought she was could whisper her next words whilst keeping her own secret locked away.

“You don’t have to be scared with me. I would never hurt you. Lo prometo.”

After a sleepless night that was entertained by memories of you and the stranger you were in love with passing through your mind like a slideshow, you returned to work like nothing happened. You showed up even earlier than normal, a whole hour earlier, the sun only just beginning to peek over the horizon. The bell rang as you opened the door to the little hole-in-the-wall shop, the same one that became the anthem to Alexia’s arrival and departure whenever she paid you a visit. 

There were countless visits, each one a memory you could describe in detail, though there wasn’t any point in doing that, seeing as they’d just led to another broken promise.

You were knee-deep in repairing a zipper on some old lady’s favourite jacket when the bell rang again. Of course, your mind immediately jumped to her, but in reality it was probably just the owner. It was still another half hour before the shop opened.

“Perdoni? Estic buscant la…” You knew that voice anywhere.

She trailed off when you rounded the corner, and you gave no reaction whereas her eyebrows shot up, before falling straight back down as she sighed in relief. 

“Gràcies a déu. You are here.” Just like the first time, the way she spoke was ineffably soft. Though, there was an allure to it, like she knew something was wrong and she desperately wanted to fix it. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked in what could only be described as an insecure whisper. 

She took two steps towards the counter, the only physical object that separated you both, nevermind the recent events. 

“You did not text or call last night. And you look…” She shook her head and frowned, taking another step. “You look tired. And upset.”

That was one thing that had transpired in the time you spent with her, she came to read you surprisingly well. 

“You wear your heart on your sleeve. I'm not sure if you know that.”

Nobody ever truly knew you well enough to identify that. But to her, it was obvious.

“I am tired. I'm okay though.” You nodded. Alexia saw right through you.

“No, you're not. Something is wrong. Please, tell me. I want to know and I want you to feel better. If… if I have done something, I want to fix it.” The blonde said definitively.

What else did you have to lose? You'd already made peace with her being your past, it wasn’t like she could make your future any worse.

“You… lied to me, Alexia.” You stated quietly, averting your gaze to the scratched wood of the counter in front of you. The shop was silent for a few moments, and you knew all was said and done in terms of this… whatever it was between you both.

“I did? A-about what?” She asked, a tremor in her voice that did little to calm your racing heartbeat.

“Your job. I saw you on TV last night. You were on TV.” 

All the anxiety you felt at the idea of confrontation tripled when you saw the corner of her mouth twitch the tiniest bit. She found this whole thing funny. 

“I don't want to do thi-”

“I never lied. I really didn't lie.” Another step closer, her waist an inch from the counter. Her hand reached for yours that rested on it, but you pulled it away and moved back a bit. 

It was then that she realised how serious this was for you. 

“I just don't want you to lie to me, ever. About anything. And we'll be fine.”

Refraining from talking about her job, the thing that everyone overlooks her for as a human who wanted normal things, instead of the player that got harassed for signatures that'd be on the market minutes after she put the lid on her pen or the player that was expected to be perfect all the time, had caused all this. In her eyes, it wasn't a lie, but the minute you voiced your hurt, she recognised how it would have come across for you. 

“You did! You can't keep something like that a secret and expect me to be okay with it. How could you do this?” You could never get angry like everyone else could, never feel it normally. You had to let it consume you, to the point of tears. The first of this whole ordeal.

“I said it wasn't important, I never lied to you. I see now it is important, but you never asked me about it and I was relieved about that because everybody sees me as my job and you are the first person outside my family to see me as something more.” She rushed out, taking a deep breath afterwards to try and gain her composure back. It cracked once more when she saw how you tried to hide the fact you had to wipe some tears away, but she remained strong. “Last night, the partit, I know it seemed like a lot. But that is all it is. Just football. And as much as I love it, it was nice to not have to talk about it all day every day with you. You are a normal person, a beautiful and unique person, but… ugh, I do not know how to word it. I do not want to hurt you with what I say because I can't find the right words.”

Despite her frustrations, you sort of knew what she was saying. Judging by the importance of the game you saw yesterday, you could imagine that she never really got to leave the intensity of that with the people she was surrounded by and the fans that followed. 

You had a normal job, a normal daily routine. From the sounds of it, her life was far from normal. So, despite the current distance between you both, you sort of understood where she was coming from. You just didn't know what to say.

“I can see now that it was wrong to not tell you about something so big in my life. I will tell you everything you want to know. Everything. You can ask so many questions, I will not hide a thing from you.” She looked and sounded desperate for you to forgive her. 

If anyone held a gun to your head in that moment, you couldn't tell them how you felt. As a result of your uncertainty, the silence stretched on and on, only causing more of a gap. With every passing second, Alexia was consumed by dread. 

She should have been more considerate, more aware of how you felt and what you needed from her. Instead, she'd gotten tunnel vision on who she could be around you, rather than who you wanted her to be. That revelation made her sick, because there was no one to blame but her if this was something that couldn't be repaired.

“Do you… do you want me to go?” The Catalan questioned. 

There was nothing else you thought to do, other than nod.

“Okay.” Alexia said, frowning as she actually processed what she had just said. You saw the gloss in her eyes shine when she turned towards the door, and it tore your heart in two to see her leave.

When the bell rang as the door closed behind her, you knew instantly that you had made a mistake. You were stuck to your spot for a couple seconds, frozen at the decision you decided you loathed. 

Seeing her walk out wasn't right. Asking her to go wasn't right. She belonged in your future, and though the thought terrified you, you had no choice but to push out your comfort zone and do something for yourself for once.

With the force you opened the door with, you wouldn't be surprised if the poor bell above it broke. But she was there, just about to round the corner, her head bowed as she tried to leave as quickly as possible. Until you called her name. She turned on the spot, her face pinched in confusion as tears raced down her cheeks. There were matching ones on your own, though you let them fall freely, considering there were more important things on your mind.

Cautiously, Alexia began heading back towards you, unsure if that's what you wanted her to do. Then she saw the way your hands fidgeted and how nervous you seemed, and she sped up a little. 

She stood before you, her eyes already red, and you floundered for a moment, wondering how on earth you could come back from telling her to go. Instead, you took one of her hands, waiting for her to nod her permission for you to do so, and led her back inside the shop. The bell rang, again, and it echoed off of the walls until the pair of you were left in silence once more.

Your anxiety mirrored hers, both your futures riding on this moment. It was in your hands to decide what happened next.

“I… panicked.” You started, exhaling sharply afterwards, the truthful words a weight off your chest and making it easier for you to continue. “I got scared, and told myself you betrayed me, as a habit. Which I know you don't want to hear, that's not what anyone wants to hear from someone they're seeing, but it's something I do. Because people do it to me all the time and I'm tired of it. I feel like I was maybe waiting for you to do it, I expected it to happen at some point. Not because of who you are but who I am and what I've been through. So at the first sign of… whatever, I blew it up and turned it into something that it wasn't. I'm sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Alexia told you when you finished, her free hand taking yours and squeezing them both. “You cannot help being scared of something. And especially if it is something that has happened before. You panicked. You let your mind take you somewhere and got stuck in it, that is normal. It has happened to me before, it happens to everybody. But, look, we are talking about it and we are fixing it. Together. Because I want to be with you, it does not matter to me what habits you have, I want to be here to remind you I still want to be with you. I do want to be with you. Really do.” 

Everything she said then was exactly why you knew it was right to go after her. Why you should have let her in after months of her trying. You wished you trusted her earlier and accepted her advances the first time she asked, but if you did that, you wouldn’t have this moment here, where she was showing exactly who she was.

This woman in front of you, she was more than the footballer you saw on TV, and she was so much more than you first gave her credit for. Getting hurt by her not telling you about that portion of her life was unnecessary, because the person on the screen was endlessly talented and extraordinary, sure, but the person in front of you was who she really was. She had many sides and personas, but none of them were on show around you. No, she was Alexia. She was the woman you loved, the gentle and caring soul you had the privilege of knowing for the past months. She was your future.

“I want to be with you too. I’m scared by that, I think it might take a while for my anxiety to go, if you… if you’re fine with that.” At that, she smiled. Her soft, forgiving, welcoming smile that drew you in in the first place.

“I am fine with that. I will do anything, tell you anything, to remind you that I will be here and to make those anxieties go quiet. We will go at your speed from here, whatever you want and need. I just want you. Just want to be yours.” For some reason, you found yourself giggling quietly when she finished speaking. And like the first time she heard you laugh, she joined in with you. “What? I mean it.”

“I know. I know you do. I can’t really believe I found someone like you. Everything in the past seems worth it now that… now that you’re here. And you’re mine.” She frowned, unhappy at one of the things you said.

“It might seem worth it now, but that doesn’t mean you deserved it, cariño.” Her arms wrapped around you, bringing you in gently for a much needed embrace that quelled your worries indefinitely.

“I know. But we don’t need to think about that. I don’t… want to think about any of that anymore.” You admitted, to which Alexia instantly agreed with.

“We can swap those memories with better ones. Of us.” She chose to say, not wanting to dwell on the past that she didn’t know much about, and honestly thought it was better that she didn’t. To know what you’d been through before her would surely break her heart.

“I can’t wait to make memories with you.” You whispered quietly. She hummed in acknowledgement.

A smile grew on your face, and one grew on hers. Both relieved this miscommunication over, happy to be with each other (finally), and excited for the future together.

—

other fic is still in progress, this is something quick fun and short i had the inspo to write before a very long story comes your way soon!! thanks for reading :)🧡

[taeghi]

take two

you weren’t expecting to see him again, but here he is. jake’s back, and with him comes everything you’ve been trying to move on from. so, what now?

PAIRING : ex!jake x y/n

GENRE : second chance love, ex's to lovers, smut, angst. bathroom sex, choking + hair pulling :D

WC : like 7k?

MDNI

your coworkers convinced you to go out with them after work. it is friday, after all, so you thought it would be a good start to your weekend after a long week of work.

across the street from your workplace is a bar that your coworkers and other workers nearby visit regularly. it's not too small and not too big, but on weekends, it's particularly busy. there are some booths that align the edges of the place, a counter area to order drinks, and a pretty large dance floor.

your coworkers and you snag a booth in the far corner.

your nails tap against the scratched wooden table as your coworkers look at the menu, thinking about ordering an appetizer for you all to share. to be honest, you aren't really hungry, and you are getting tired of them arguing about what to order.

"i'm just going to the bar to get a drink," you inform them, causing them to glance up at you.

"oh, can you get me a beer, y/n?" lila asks, her eyes lighting up.

"can you get me one, too?" daisy adds hopefully.

"why don't you just get us a jug of beer to share, y/n?" serena suggests instead.

"yeah! that would be better!" lila nods, her smile taking up her entire pretty face. daisy nods in agreement, looking between the two at the table and you.

"uh, yeah, okay! no problem!" you agree with your coworkers and turn towards the bar.

you sigh to yourself as you ask the bartender for a jug of beer and slide him $30 across the counter. you don't like beer, but you've just started working at this company and quickly realized how cliquey it is. the girls you came with tonight are more popular at your work. they're pretty and good at their jobs. you were shocked when they invited you to go out with them tonight.

since you're new at your job and don't know anyone properly yet, you decide to go out with these girls, even if they aren't your usual friend type. that's why you're ordering beer instead of your normal drink. you're used to trying to fit in with other groups and surrendering your authentic self, though you thought you wouldn't have to once you graduated college.

the bartender places a jug of beer on the counter; you reach for it simultaneously with someone else—your hand brushes against the stranger's hand on the jug's handle. you pull back quickly and start to apologize, "oh, i'm so sorry i thought that was mi-," the words die on your tongue.

"y/n?"

the way he says your name is too familiar for your liking. you've heard him say it many times before and never thought you would hear it again.

"jake?" you respond, and as you do, you realize it's the first time you've said his name out loud in years.

jake looks the same but different all at once. his features are more mature than they were in freshman year, and his hair is longer. his chest is more built, and you can't help but notice how the shirt he's wearing is so snug against his arms, which are bigger than you remembered. his eyes are more tired and sunken than they were those years ago.

"yeah, it's been a while." he speaks awkwardly, but he doesn't make a move to escape.

his words force you to think back about when you last saw him, the pain of that memory is suppressed but still somehow fresh. you remember the both of you yelling and crying and him leaving your dorm room for the last time by slamming the door behind him.

jake was your first boyfriend.

you met in your first year of college, and within a week, you were dating. the first half of your relationship was perfect. if only it could have stayed that way.

before the beginning of the sophomore year had even started, your relationship with jake sim had faltered. you think it was both of your faults as to why it ended. he began to get more popular and wanted to go out and neglected your needs for his social life, and you started to get more self-conscious and insecure.

it wasn’t long after your breakup that jake sim had disappeared. 

you hadn’t even known he left until your mutual friends and acquaintances had started asking you where he went. but you were as shocked as they were. 

you aren’t sure where he went, but you knew for a fact that he had dropped out of your university. there was a few rumours about where he had gone, like to france to learn french or that he went back to australia because his family had gone bankrupt. 

you (and probably everyone else he ever knew) checked his social media daily to see if he changed anything or posted anything. he never posted on his snapchat again, didn’t retweet a stupid meme on twitter (i will never call it X). his instagram only had one small change suddenly, a few months after he had left. the first letter of your name that was in his instagram bio had been deleted. 

you remember the feeling of your heart sinking into your stomach when you pressed his username in your recent searches, thinking that nothing would have changed, that his instagram would still look like he was forever stuck in the past. but the first thing you noticed when it slid onto his account was your initial gone. it comforted you but devastated you at the same time. 

on one hand, he was at least alive and safe if he was editing his insta bio, and on the other hand, he really had moved on from you. 

after he removed your initial you stopped checking all of his social media. at some point, he had deleted his instagram completely, but you weren’t shocked by that as much. 

you had thought you would never see jake sim ever, again and that you could move on with your life. 

but that didn't last long since he's standing directly in front of you right now.

he continues with your lack of response, "you look good, though, y/n."

you glance down at your work attire, just some dress pants and a blouse, "thanks, i'm just here after work."

"oh, where do you work?"

"uh, across the street, at the law firm, across the street."

his eyes light up at the information, "oh my god, you always wanted to work there! that's great!"

you smile painfully at his remembering of what you wanted to do after college. your gaze softening with a sadness you couldn’t quite hide. it was like you’re scared that if you blink he’d disappear again. 

"what?" he asks you with a curious smile, obviously picking up on your expression. 

"sorry," you shook your head to come back to reality, "i just… i never thought i’d see you again."

jake’s laugh was quick and full, like how you remembered it, “yeah, me neither to be honest. 

your head tilted slightly, yourbrows knitting together. "where did you go, anyways? like, when you dropped out?"

his smile faltered at that, just a fraction, but it was enough for you to notice. there was a hesitation in his eyes, his mouth opening like he was searching for the right words to be able to explain himself. 

but before he could speak, "here's your beer, miss." the bartender places another jug of beer beside jake's. you thank him before he moves on to the other customers, demanding his attention.

you glance back at jake, "i've got to get back to my coworkers…"

jake nods, and you can sense some disappointment in him, "right, i guess uh, i'll see you around maybe."

"yeah, maybe."

"it was nice seeing you, though. have fun with your coworkers."

you offer him a faint smile, "it was nice seeing you too; bye, jake."

you turn on your heel and start to walk back to your table. you feel like the blood has entirely left your body as your heart quickens. you can't believe you just saw your ex after all these years. you realize how fresh the pain is still.

you place the jug of beer on the table, and the other girls barely speak to you as they cheer for the alcohol and pour it into their cups.

for the rest of the night, you force yourself to sit there, listening to lila complain about the girl in the cubicle beside her, serena whining about how your boss has been avoiding her since their most recent hookup, and daisy hating the way the other girls in the office dress.

you try to focus on their conversations, but it feels draining. you wonder how you got yourself in this position.

you thought your life would be so different after college—that you'd actually enjoy life. but you're starting to think it's all the same no matter where you are. you're holding a cup of a drink that you don't even like and pretending to fit in with these coworkers that you really don't like.

in the same bar, there's jake sim, your ex-boyfriend of all people. you can't help but wonder how he's genuinely been and what he's been up to now.

it's a thought that keeps you up at night every few months: what would have happened if you had stayed together during college if you hadn't let your insecurities get the best of you, if you had gone out with him to those parties he was always going to?

before you can stop yourself, your gaze shifts across the room. there he is. jake is sitting at a table with a few friends, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he listens to someone speak. your heart clenches as his eyes suddenly lift, locking onto yours through the crowded bar.

the noise around you silences. his gaze feels heavier than it should—like he's reading every thought you've buried, every emotion you swore you'd moved past. you want to look away, pretend that you don't see him, but you can't. his eyes are prettier than you remembered.

just as your thoughts start spiraling, a waitress steps in front of his table, breaking eye contact. it's enough to jolt you back to reality, enough to remind you of where you are and who you're supposed to be now.

"i think i'm gonna head home," you tell your coworkers, forcing a weak smile as you grab your bag.

they barely notice as you slip away, the bar noise fading behind you as you step outside.

every step you take home leads to a new memory you've suppressed about jake. like when he used to hum his favorite song as he drove, how he pulled his jacket off and covered your head with it from the sudden rain one night, and the memory of how his voice sounded so deep and raspy in the morning as he begged you to stay "just a little longer" in bed.

how could jake still affect you after all these years?

you wipe the tear falling down your cheek.

you spent the rest of the weekend wondering why you had the worst luck. you could’ve run into anyone you’ve ever met, but it just had to be jake sim. 

your break up with jake was hard on you. he was the first boy you ever loved. sometimes you wondered if he would be the only boy you’ll ever love. 

since jake, you’ve gone on a few dates with other boys; some you’ve met on shitty dating apps and others your friends had set you up with. most of them never went to a second date and the rest didn’t last more than a year. 

it was starting to frustrate you and you were beginning to think you’d be single forever. 

your friends asked you what was wrong with all the boys you’ve dated, and you could never tell them a straightforward answer. you felt like you were looking for something in each of them that they never had. sometimes your mind would tell you that you’re looking for jake within them, but you never let yourself ponder on that thought for long. 

when monday rolled around again, you realize you spent the entire weekend holed up in your apartment with thoughts of jake sim taking up your entire mind. you tell yourself that the past 48 hours was the final time you’d ever think about him and you went to work.

you are kind of proud of yourself for not thinking too much about jake sim all week. 

everytime your ex boyfriend would seep into your mind, you reminded yourself to not think about him. there is no good about thinking about all the what if’s that surround him and your relationship. that your history with jake sim is done, and you’ll never see him again. 

this friday night, you aren’t spending it in a corner of a bar with your coworkers that you mildly hate, but spending it in a corner of a bar with your college friends for one of their birthdays. 

you had met the birthday girl, aeri, during your freshman year of college and she had easily become one of your best friends. even after college aeri and you have made sure to remain close, despite both of you working a lot of longer hours now. 

you show up at the bar she had texted you the address to earlier on time, wearing a short black dress that you always wanted to wear but never a reason to. you’re quick to spot your friend group in the bar. they were loud and already filling up two tables pushed together. 

“oh my god! y/n!” aeri suddenly squeals as she sees you over the many heads of your friends. 

the whole group turns at your name and you’re suddenly being pulled into many hugs as you greet all your friends. some of them you haven’t seen since graduation, but others you’ve seen last week. 

“happy birthday, aeri,” you greet your best friend finally, handing her her gift in a pink bag. 

“aw, thank you so much, y/n!” she pulls you into a tight hug, your chin squeezed against her shoulder and neck. 

“it’s no problem! i hope you like it!” 

“oh, you know i will.” aeri moves her hand dismissively, but then her eyes suddenly light up. “oh my god, y/n, wait, guess who showed up!” 

you tilt your head curiously, “who?” 

“jake!” 

his name makes your blood run cold and your body heat up at the same time. you follow with your eyes where your best friend's finger is pointing, and sure enough, jake sim is sitting at the table. 

unlike last week, jake’s hair is pushed back neatly and he’s wearing an all black suit, he looks more put together. it makes your heart stop for a minute as you take in his appearance. his chocolate brown eyes are looking back at you with a sheepish smile on his face. 

“isn’t it great y/n? he’s back!” aeri continues, not being able to contain her own excitement for her old friend returning. 

“uh, yeah, it is.” you nod, not being able to form any other words. 

some servers suddenly approach the table with some drinks, distracting everyone, so you take your chance to sit down at the only empty chair at the table. which just so happens to be across from jake. 

you curse yourself for taking so long to pick an outfit out, you could’ve been here earlier and not forced to sit directly looking at your ex. 

thankfully, sora is sitting beside you, she’s the sweetest girl you’ve ever met. you met her during your final years at college, though you wish you could’ve met her much sooner. she always knows how to cheer you up. 

“hi, y/n! i love your dress.” sora greets you, her lovely smile already on her pretty face. 

“thanks sora, i love your dress too, it’s super pretty!” 

she thanks you before she takes a sip of her drink, “so you were friend’s with jake too, then?” 

dammit sora. 

your wide eyes meet jakes wide ones across the table. both of you look at each other and then at sora. since sora had joined your friend group later on, she never got to meet jake. maybe she’s heard some stories about him, but that’s all she would’ve known about your ex. 

“uh yeah, we were.” jake speaks for you, keeping his voice so calm compared to how you were feeling inside. 

from down the table you hear aeri scoff, “please sora, they weren’t just friends.” everyone turns to look at aeri, who bless her heart, is already wasted, “they dated!” 

your stomach drops further at your best friend reminding everyone about your past relationship with jake. the table laughs as you see everyone remembering. you stare down at your lap, wishing you could disappear. 

“yeah, sora,” you hear your friend heeseung speak from down the table, “jake and y/n use to be like attached at the hip.” 

sunghoon, who’s sitting beside heeseung chimes in with a teasing smile, “jake and i use to live together in freshman year. it was like y/n was our third roommate. i remember us joking about her having to start paying rent she was there so often!” 

the laughter around the table is lighthearted, with everyone remembering freshman year. but you leave your gaze fixated on your lap. you glance up at jake quickly, wanting to see if he’s just as awkward and embarrassed as you are, but of course he’s not. 

jake is calm and seems completely nonchalant about the whole thing. 

before you could spiral further, the servers return with plates of food for everyone. the conversation shifts as everyone starts to prepare to eat, mumbling about how hungry they are. 

sora leans toward you, her expression apologetic as she whispers to you, “i’m so sorry about that y/n. i should’ve been quieter or something.” 

you shake your head, giving her a small smile. “it’s no problem sora. it’s okay— you didn’t know.” 

from down the table, aeri’s voice cuts through, “more shots!” she yells, raising her glass high. you realize she must be really going full out for her birthday this year. 

suddenly, you feel something brush against your calf. the gentle but purposefully movement makes you jump slightly. your eyes dart across the table, meeting jake’s calm gaze. his leg is the one stretched out under the table with his foot gently rubbing yours. you can tell that the look in his eyes is asking if you’re okay. it makes your chest tighten. 

you can’t hold his gaze for long. 

you take the chance to excuse yourself. “i’m going to the bathroom,” you murmur quietly to sora, who nods in understanding. you can tell she still feels bad for triggering the jake conversation. 

you leave the table quickly, making a beeline straight for the hallway that leads to the bathroom. when you reach the door though, it’s locked. 

“great,” you sigh to yourself and spin to lean against the wall, it’s cold against your warm skin. 

you close your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. everytime you think you’ll never see jake sim again, you’re always proven wrong. and now, he’s back with your friend group, so you’ll have to see him even more often. you don’t know if you can do it. you think about going home early. aeri is too drunk to notice if you disappear before her fourth round of shots. 

another person walks in the tight, dark hallway to the bathrooms which makes you glance up and realize it’s jake. 

he stops in front of you, “are you okay?” 

“yeah, just someones in there,” you nod towards the closed bathroom door, “so i’m waiting.” 

jake nods as his mouth forms an “O” in understanding. he leans back against the opposite wall of you, so you’re both facing each other. 

now, in the dark, you recognize how much his facial features have matured since you last saw him. he’s not boyish and silly like he used to be when you dated. jake looks more serious and stoic and you wonder if you would even know parts of him anymore. 

“why are you acting like nothing happened between us?” jake suddenly asks you. 

it takes you by surprise, how blunt his question is. you try to remember if jake was this blunt when you dated. 

“what do you mean?” 

jake pushes off the wall behind him and he steps towards you, closing the distance in the small hallway. his movements have your pulse racing. his frame is enclosing you against the wall, he leans one of his hands against the wall beside your head. 

“you know what i mean, y/n.” jake’s voice is low as he speaks. he looks down at you, right into your eyes. you feel your knees buckle. “you’re sitting there, acting like we’re strangers or something. like none of it mattered. like i didn’t matter to you.” 

your whole body feels like its on fire. your fingers grip the hem of your dress, trying to keep you present and upright against the wall behind you. 

“jake,” you whisper, trying to tell him anything. but the intensity in his eyes and how close his body is to yours make it hard to think straight. 

“just tell me, y/n,” jake says slowly, his free hand brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face, making your breath hitch at his touch that you haven’t felt in years, “is this really how you want it to be between us?” 

his words hang in the air. the tension between you is so thick in this small hallway that it feels almost suffocating. his hand lingers on your cheek. the touch of his fingers makes your brain fuzzy. you want to respond to him, saying something or anything to him, but you can’t focus on anything but how close he is to you. how familiar his touch is. 

“tell me you don’t feel it anymore.” jake tells you, his breath warm against your skin. his fingers fall to your jaw, titling your face up so you’re forced to look directly at him. you feel hyper-aware of the fact that his lips are just a mere inch away from yours. 

“f-feel what?” 

the bathroom door opens right beside your head, the light from inside brightens the hallway. you both freeze as you look at a girl you don’t recognize step out of the bathroom. her eyes widen slightly as the light behind her exposes both of you pressed up against the wall. her face is contorted as he awkwardly walks around you and back to the bar. 

before you can say anything, jake is pushing you into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it with both of you inside. 

jake doesn’t give you a second to breathe, he’s pushing you up against the sink’s counter, your hips pushed against the ledge. 

“the neediness y/n,” jake answers your question from the hall, “you used to be so needy for me. you used to make me make you cum at least twice before we could even leave the house. do you remember that, y/n?”

his words make you gasp, the memories of all the times jake has made you orgasm come flooding into your mind. no one’s ever known your body as well as jake has. no one’s ever been attentive as him. with all the boring dates you’ve been on through the years, the sex was just as boring. 

“do you want me to remind you why you were so needy for me, baby?” 

“please,” you whine out, suddenly caving into your desires, to your neediness. 

within seconds jake is lifting you up onto the bathroom counter behind you, your back pressed up against the cool mirror. his hands don’t hesitate to roam your body, feeling your body again, like he once did all the those years ago. you bite your lip to suppress a moan. you’re quickly remembering how easily his touch affects you. 

“did you miss my touch, baby?” jake whispers, his hot breath fanning your neck. it sends goosebumps across your skin. his lips start to trail down your neck, kissing the skin there so softly, teasing. his hands are the complete contrast to his lips, they’re rough like they own you. 

even after all these years, it still seems like jake knows exactly how to tease you and touch you. it feels as if there was no time gap between then and now. 

jake’s fingers start trailing up your bare thighs, so gently and warm, “you missed the way i make you feel? the way i make you cum?” his words further light the fire within you. you nod against the mirror behind you, watching as he stands between your legs, his fingers finding the already damp fabric of your panties. 

jake hooks his fingers under the elastic and pulls them down, leaving your bottom half completely exposed to his eyes. the sudden rush of cool air on your core makes you gasp. but jake wastes no time and slides two fingers inside your wet folds, eliciting a soft cry from your lips at the feeling of being stuffed. 

“you’re so fucking wet baby,” he growls, his fingers starting to push in and out of your hole. he curls them in just the right way that has you moaning already. he knows your body already, he doesn’t need to probe around to find that one spot that has you writhing in pleasure. he knows what makes you weak. “do you want me to fuck you right here? in this bathroom with all of our friends outside waiting for us?” 

you can only nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps as his fingers still fuck into you. he leans directly over over pussy, allowing a string of spit to fall from lips and right onto your core, mixing with your juices all over his fingers. the sounds emanating from your pussy fill the bathroom. the slick noise jake’s fingers slicking against your juices mingle with your moans. 

jake adds a third finger, stretching you, filling you. its the most full you’ve been in years. the sensation is addicting. 

“tell me you missed me, baby.” jake demands, his fingers twisting and thrusting inside of you. “tell me you’ve been thinking about my touch— my cock pounding into you.” his words are even more addicting as you’re forced to listen to him in your ear. you whimper out in response, trying to keep your eyes open to watch him, to watch his fingers sink into your wet core over and over again. 

“say it,” he insists, his fingers slowing their pace, teasing you. “say you need my cock, that you want me to remind you why you loved my cock so much.” his free hand reaches up, gripping your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your thoughts swirl. the choke sends a rush of adrenaline through your body, heightening your senses. you feel so submissive to him that it only fuels your desire for him. 

“i, i need it!” you manage to croak out, your voice so hoarse. “please fuck me, jake, please.” 

your words make him release your neck, and instead he grabs your hair. the pain feels good as it mixes with the pleasure his fingers are giving you. 

with both of his hands busy and your hips bucking off the counter and legs squeezing around jake’s wrist, jake’s access to your sweet spot inside of your pussy was disrupted. 

“hold your legs open for me,” jake tells you. your hands reach around to hook underneath your knees to spread yourself bare for him. “good girl.” 

you whimper at the name. jake keeps your head pinned back against the mirror and keeps his other hand delved deep inside your pussy as he curls and swirls his fingers around your g spot, stretching you. 

you felt so dirty— fucking your ex in a bathroom with your friends all outside waiting for you. you’re bare on the sink counter and holding your own legs open, spreading yourself for your ex. 

“f-fuck!” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as he finger fucks you. everytime his fingers enter you you feel closer and closer to the edge— you can practically taste your orgasm. “i want your cock so bad! i need it, please!” 

jake groans, he swears he feels his cock twitch in his pants at how needy your voice sounded, “fuck, you know how much i love hearing you beg. i can’t say no to it,” jake then takes his fingers out of you, chuckling at your whine and the way your pussy tries to clamp around them, wanting them to stay inside. 

he leaves you panting and writhing on the counter as he starts to unbuckle his pants and pull his hard cock out. the sight of you with your hair messy from his hand pulling it and your pupils blown out makes his cock drip more with precum. 

you spread your legs again for him to stand in between them. his large, hard cock only inches away from sliding into your pussy. he leans between your bodies again, letting spit drip from his mouth and land right on his cock. you forgot how much jake loves to make it as messy as possible. 

jake presses his cock against your throbbing clit. it makes your squirm as it rubs up and down your wet folds, collecting more of your juices and his spit. you whine out into the bar’s bathroom as he teases you. your hips try to grind against his cock that is vertical with your slit as he rubs it up and down. you really are so desparate and so needy, especially for jake’s cock. 

you’re getting tired of his teasing and smirking as he watches you try to grind yourself onto his cock. “jake, please fuck me already!” you urge him to take you then and there. 

“someone’s impatient,” jake continues smirking. before you could complain further, jake thrusts forward, filling your wet pussy in one swift motion. you instantly cry out, throwing your head back against the mirror behind you. 

the feeling of finally being stuffed full satisfies and overwhelms you at once. but, jake holds himself still for a moment, with his cock fully lodged inside of you, letting you adjust. he doesn’t pull out until you nod at him that it was okay to start. 

his first thrust back in is rough and hard. the force of his hips meeting yours makes your entire body jerk against the bathroom counter. the mirror behind you holds you in place for his harsh thrusting. jake’s hands are holding your legs tight as he begins to fuck in and out of you. 

the sound of the wetness from your juices and his saliva fill the room along with the sound of skin slapping against skin. jake’s grunts are low and his face is already contorted into pleasure as he focuses on fucking his cock deep inside of you. 

“fuck you’re such a good girl, taking all of my cock like this,”  jake groans out, his pace becoming relentless and wild as he fucks you on the counter. “you’re gonna cum all over my cock right? show me how needy you are— how much you need to cum on my cock?” 

“oh fuck yes!” you cry out, your legs wrapping around his waist tighter, latching onto him, “please fuck don’t stop!” 

yor nails dig into his shoulders through his black shirt. jake reaches between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and starts to circle it the way he knows you like it. 

jake seemingly knows everything about your body, even more than you do. you swear he makes you cum than you can make yourself cum. nothing feels as good as jake— that’s all you can think about as he is pounding into you. 

suddenly, jake pulls out of you completely and steps away, making your legs drop from around his waist. 

“jake,” you whine out, “what the fuck? i was so close!” 

he only chuckles in response, “turn around, let me see your ass.” 

you shut up and get off the counter, turning around like he told you to. jake’s hand is on your back, pushing you down so your ass it up and your chest is pressed flush against the cool bathroom counter. 

jake’s other hand harshly slaps your bare skin on your ass, “spread your legs.” you do as he says again, whining at the pain and pleasure you’re feeling all at once. 

you feel jake’s hands wrap around your waist before he slides his cock back into you, both of you groaning at the feeling of the different angle. jake’s grip on your waist tightens as he starts to fuck into you from the back now. your ass moving every time he slams his cock back into you all the way. 

without jake holding you in place, you’re sure your hips would be bruised from the bathroom counter from how hard and fast he’s pounding into you. you keep your hands on the edges of the bathroom counter, letting jake fuck you at whatever pace he wants. your moans are getting louder and louder as both of you start to fill the bathroom up with the smell of sex and sweat. 

“fuck, this pussy is just as good as i remembered it,” jake grunts out behind you. his once neat, pushed back hair is now messy along his forehead from his harsh movements and sweat. his bottom lip is swollen from biting down on it as he fucks you. 

“mhm,” you nod against the counter, “y-you’re cock is still so good, fuck.” 

jake’s hand lands harshly on your ass again, your hand quickly covers your mouth to prevent you from screaming. you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as jake fucks you, his cock stretching you so fucking good. 

jake suddenly pulls your hair backwards, “stand up.” you do as he says yet again, but you need to grip the counter in front of you and lean on his body behind you to stand up. “look,” his nods beside your face from behind you, now that your back is pressed against his chest, his cock still lodged deep inside of you. 

you look ahead of you into the mirror and see what you and jake look like pressed up against each other. jake’s one hand is still in your hair, pulling it back so you’re forced to look at yourself in the mirror. both of your hair is a mess either way, and your black dress is pulled up way past your waist, it’s almost like a crop top now. 

yours and jakes eyes both look blown out, high on sex, pleasure and adrenaline. even though you’re both sweaty, you can’t help but think how good jake looks with a few sweat droplets gathering around his hairline. 

“don’t you look so sexy, baby?” jake whispers into your ear, he starts to thrust upwards into your pussy again, it makes your knees buckle underneath yourself. you whimper in response, not being able to take your eyes off of yourselves in the mirror. 

“y-you look so hot,” your voice is hoarse as you tell him. in the mirror you see him smirk at you, before he leans over and starts sucking on your neck, biting and nipping at all the spots that he knows drives you crazy. 

jake doesn’t stop thrusting his cock up inside of you as he lets go of your hair with his hand. he then trails his hand down the front side of you and circling your clit again with two fingers. you throw your head back onto his shoulder, but still keep your eyes on the mirror in front of you. it was like watching your own personal porn, the way both of you were groaning and grabbing each other. the way your entire body would jerk everytime jake thrusted inside of you. 

“that’s it, keep watching us, baby,” jake groans into your ear, your eyes meet his through the reflection of the mirror, “don’t we look so good together?” 

“y-yes,” you whimper out, the pressure on your clit making you lose yourself within the pleasure. 

“did you miss my cock, y/n? did you miss me?” 

“mhm, yes, fuck, missed you so much.” 

jake smirks against your cheek at your response, his thrusting getting more erratic, wanting to make you cum all over his cock just like you had done before, years ago. 

“then cum all over my cock baby, show me how much you missed this.” 

his words push you to the edge, your orgasm finally done building as it courses through your body almost suddenly. “fuck!” you cry out, your nails digging into the bathroom counter in front of you. without jake holding you you would’ve fallen right down from how the pleasure completely takes over your body. his two fingers don’t stop circling your clit all the way through your orgasm, making you cry out his name, your pussy clamping around his cock. 

jake continues to thrust through your orgasm, his own release building. He grips your hips tightly, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he empties himself deep inside you. "That's it, baby, milk my cock," he growls, his voice hoarse with pleasure.

As your bodies slowly calm, Jake leans forward, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. The taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, reminds you why you had always found it so hard to forget him. 

“I missed this, missed you," he breathes against your lips, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. 

with his words and now that he wasn’t inside of you or making your mind all fuzzy, his words only brought you back to reality. 

the reality that you just had sex with your ex in a bathroom of a bar at your best friends birthday party. 

jake can physically see you tense in front of him, he lets you step away from him, turning away from him to pick up your panties from the floor and quickly slip them back on. 

“y/n?” he questions you, “are you okay?” 

“mhm,” you tell him, it’s all you can manage, your mind too confused with anything else. 

the air in the bathroom suddenly feels suffocating. your lips and body are still tingling from his touch. 

it feels like just a second ago, jake was just a memory from your college days, someone that you thought you'd’ never see again, and now, you’ve just been pressed against the bathroom counter with his hands all over your skin and his lips claiming yours. you feel like nothing makes sense right now. 

you take a step back, putting distance between you and jake, your heart pounding erratically. “i can’t do this,” you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you reach for the door handle.

“y/n, wait.” jake’s voice is soft but urgent, and his hand wraps around your wrist gently, trying to stop you. “can we just talk?”

but you shake your head, pulling free from his grasp. “i can’t,” you repeat, your voice cracking slightly. without another word, you slip out of the bathroom and into the bar and then out the front door. 

the cool night air hits your face as you push open the door and step outside, trying to steady your breathing. it’s a relief compared to the heat inside that bathroom. you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to think about everything that just happened and how you’re going to get home right now. 

“y/n!” his voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to see him jogging toward you. before you can react, his hand catches your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. his grip is firm but not forceful, his eyes searching yours desperately. “please, talk to me.” 

you pull your wrist from his grasp, a lot harder than you had meant to, but you were angry and confused. “you don’t get to just walk back into my life like nothing happened, jake! you don’t get to just show up, fuck me, and act like—like you didn’t just leave me!”

ake flinches, his expression twisting with guilt. he runs a hand through his hair, looking down for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “i know,” he says softly. “i know i don’t deserve to just… come back like this. but y/n, i couldn’t stay away.”

“then why did you leave?” you demand, your voice cracking as you step back from him. “why did you disappear? you weren’t even home half the time anymore.” 

“because i was scared,” he’s blunt again, something you don’t recognize in the man you thought you knew, but you prefer it like this than him bottling it up and leaving. scared of how much i loved you. it was overwhelming, y/n. you were my whole world, and it terrified me. i mean, we were so young and, i didn’t know how to handle it, so i ran.”

your breath catches, tears stinging your eyes as his words sink in. “you hurt me, jake,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “you broke me.”

“i know,” he says, stepping closer, his expression full of regret. “and i’ve thought about you every day since i left. i just didn’t know how to fix it.”

his voice softens as he reaches for your hand, but he stops short, giving you the choice to take it. “but i’m here now, y/n and i’m not scared anymore. i love you.” 

you stare at him, his words hanging heavily in the space between you. part of you wants to push him away again, to protect yourself from the pain he’s already caused. but another part—the part that still remembers how he made you feel, how he made you laugh, how we always seemed to know you better than you knew yourself. 

“jake,” your voice weak, “you can’t just say you love me and expect it to fix everything. i mean, we dated years ago.” 

“i don’t,” jake jumps to say, “i know its not that simple, but i mean it y/n. and i had to tell you what i’ve been feeling for years, even if you don’t love me anymore.” 

you sigh, trying to sort all of your thoughts out. the person standing before you is no longer the boy you fell in love with all those years ago, even the simple interactions you’ve had with him so far you can tell he’s different. 

“it’s going to take time,” you start to say, finally, “but i can forgive you.” 

you see jake’s eyes light up in the dark night, he steps closer to you, his body heat warming yours. he takes your hands into yours, wanting you to focus only on him. “i’ll wait as long as it takes y/n. just tell me there’s a chance.” jake’s lip purse into a pout, wanting you to say yes to him. 

his round eyes looking up at yours makes you scoff, “yes jake, there’s a chance.” 

jake pulls your hands closer to him, making your body rush into his, making your faces only inches apart, “i won’t mess this up, y/n.” 

“i believe you.” 

“so… take two?” 

“take two— and it’ll be the only other take, jake!” 

“okay, okay, i believe you.” 

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

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[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 3

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry) 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts?

She wasn't fine. Colette was so far from fine that it wasn't even funny anymore.

And now her twin brother had decided to chime in with his own opinions, pouring oil into the fire. 

The thought of the media dissecting every word, every gesture, every expression was unbearable. And still, she couldn't stop herself from doomscrolling.

Colette was in a state of constant anxiety, unable to stop herself from scrolling through social media and the news articles. She knew it wasn't helping her, that it was only adding to her stress, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the screen.

Every article, every comment, every thread seemed to only add to her worry. The criticism, the speculation, the accusations...it was all too much. But she couldn't look away or stop herself from reading every word, no matter how much it hurt.

She was stuck in a vicious, spiralling cycle, seeking out the information, even though she knew it was bad for her. 

The hormones and the pregnancy symptoms didn't make it any better either. 

The hormones made her emotions more intense, her anxiety more pronounced, and the pregnancy symptoms only added to the stress and discomfort. She wanted desperately for it to end, but it seemed like it would never stop.

The worst of it all was the constant swirl of thoughts in her head. The worry and fear, the relentless stream of "what-if" scenarios.

And the most terrifying thought of all: what if her stress was hurting the baby? The idea that her anxiety could harm the little life growing inside her was a constant one, always at the front of her mind.

“Eat, Choupinette,” her mother insisted. Colette stared down at her plate. Porridge and fruit and whatever else was supposed to be good for her these days. 

But her appetite was nonexistent. The weight of everything that was happening, the thoughts and fears that were running through her mind...it made it difficult to even think about food.

"Eat, Choupinette," her mother insisted again, clearly concerned. "You need to eat something, for the baby's sake. You're too pale."

“I am..”

“You aren’t fine,” her mother cut her off with a disbelieving snort. "You're pale, you haven't been eating properly, and you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"And don't even try to tell me that the pregnancy is doing that," her mother added, her tone firm. "I had three pregnancies, I know how tiring it is. This isn't just normal exhaustion."

Colette knew that her mother was right. The pregnancy, while exhausting, wasn’t the reason. It was the anxiety, the worry, the stress...it was all taking its toll on her.

But she also knew that there was nothing she could do about it. The situation was out of her control, even if it was affecting her directly.

It was her own fault why she was in this situation to begin with. 

“I was so stupid.” Colette's shoulders slumped as she muttered under her breath. Her mother shook her head, disagreeing with the assessment.

 "It wasn't the smartest thing," her mother admitted. "But the media is blowing it out of proportion. They're making an elephant out of a fly."

It was a sentiment that Colette wholeheartedly agreed with. But at the same time, she knew that the media was relentless in their pursuit of a story. 

And Colette’s and Max's relationship would be the juiciest scandal they had gotten their hands on in a long, long time.

“I don’t want this to fall back on Charles,” Colette whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

Her brother had worked so hard to be where he was, at the pinnacle of motorsport…to drive for the team he loved so much. 

She didn’t want to get Charles into any trouble. It wasn’t his fault. It was all on her. And any scandal, any whiff of controversy, could potentially ruin everything Charles had worked so hard for.

Her mother's words were calm, but they hit hard. "Your brother is an adult," she repeated. "He can make his own decisions. And he was the one who decided he wanted to protect you. You didn’t force him to do anything, Choupinette."

Colette knew that her mother was right. Charles was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. But that didn't make her worry any less.

Her phone rang, her hand immediately shooting out for it. It was Max. Her hand was almost shaking as she answered the call.

"Maxie," she breathed, relief and worry mixing in her voice.

Max's voice was gentle, a soothing balm in the storm of chaos that was swirling around her. "Hey liefje," he repeated, the affectionate nickname rolling off his tongue.

Colette closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the sound of his voice.

"What are you up to?" Max inquired, his tone soft. 

"I'm having breakfast with Maman," she replied, glancing at her mother, who was watching her carefully.  

There was a moment of silence on the line, but she could almost picture Max's expression. He was no doubt worrying just as much as she was, if not more. "How are you doing?" he finally asked, his voice laced with concern. 

Colette let out a shaky sigh, her emotions warring inside her.

She wanted to lie. Wanted to tell him that she was fine. But Max and her had made themselves a promise ages ago. If there was one thing that Max hated, then it was lying. Even little white lies like this. They didn’t lie. They didn’t sugarcoat. They told the truth. Regardless of how hurtful it could be. 

They told each other the truth. Always. 

“Tired,” she answered weakly. 

"I heard you've been stalking social media again," Max's voice was dry, a hint of disapproval in his tone.

"Charles should really mind his own business," she bit back, her irritation at her twin brother evident. There was just one person that Max could have learnt that from. 

There was a pause, and she knew that Max was choosing his words carefully.  "He's just worried," he said finally. "We all are."

Colette huffed, her irritation at being coddled smouldering. "I don't need everyone to worry about me," she retorted, her tone snippier than she intended.

"We're not doing it to annoy you," Max replied, his voice gentle but firm. "We're doing it because we care about you.  I'm worried about you, liefje."

Those words were like a knife through the heart. She could hear the worry and concern in his voice, and it made her feel guilty for being so snappy with him.

Sassy chose that moment to come to jump up on her lap and she petted the Bengal cat absent-mindedly as she made herself a home on Colette’s lap. 

"I know you are," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I just..." she trailed off, unsure of how to put her mixed feelings into words. Sassy purred softly. 

"It's okay," Max reassured her, his voice low and soothing. "I know it's hard. But please, try to take care of yourself. For me. For Bébé."

Colette felt the tears well up in her eyes again. She wanted to tell him that she was trying, that she was doing her best. But the words lodged in her throat, replaced by a thick lump of emotion.

"I'm trying," she managed to say, hating how weak and shaky her voice sounded.

"I know you are," Max murmured, his voice full of understanding. "But you need to rest, to eat. You're not doing yourself or the baby any favors by skipping meals and staying glued to your phone."

Colette knew he was right. The lack of food and sleep was taking its toll on her health and her baby. But the stress, and the worry, it made it hard to find an appetite or to switch off her brain.

"I know," she whispered, feeling helpless and frustrated. Max sighed softly on the other end of the line. 

"I wish I could be there," he said, the longing in his voice palpable.

"Me too," she whispered, her heart aching with the weight of their separation.

"I hate being apart during all of this," he mumbled, a rare show of vulnerability from him. "I should be there with you, taking care of you, protecting you from all this damn media noise."

Colette's eyes welled with tears again at his words. "You are taking care of me," she reassured him, her voice thick with emotion. "Just hearing your voice helps more than you know."

"It's not enough," he retorted, his voice firm again. "I should be there, not just talking with you over the phone. I should be able to hold you, to make sure you eat and sleep properly."

Colette could picture the fierce expression on his face, the set of his jaw. She could almost feel the intensity of his gaze, his desire to protect and care for her. But she could also hear the frustration and helplessness in his voice.

"Max," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "It's not your fault. You're doing everything you can."

Max let out another sigh, a sound full of frustration and helplessness. "It doesn't feel like it," he mumbled, his voice betraying his emotions. "I feel so useless here, stuck continents away while you're dealing with all of this alone."

Colette's heart ached at his words. She wanted to assure him that he wasn't useless, that his support through the phone and the occasional visit meant the world to her. But she also understood how powerless he felt, how useless he must feel, miles and miles away from her.

"You're not useless," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall. "You're the only thing keeping me sane right now."

There was a pause on the line, and she could sense Max's turmoil on the other end. "I just wish I could do more," he said quietly. "I wish I could take all this away from you, the stress, the worry, the media. You shouldn't have to deal with all this alone."

Colette felt a fresh burst of tears at his words. She wanted to tell him that he wasn't Superman, that he couldn't fix everything, but she also knew that he would never accept that. Max was a doer, a problem solver. Watching her struggle from afar must be killing him.

"I'm not alone," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I have you. That's more than enough."

"It's not enough," he mumbled again, the stubborn set to his words making her smile despite herself. She could almost see the familiar stubborn pout on his face even from so far away. "I'm serious," he insisted, his voice firmer now. "I should be the one taking care of you and our baby, not just chatting on the phone."Colette let out a quiet sigh, a mix of amusement and frustration at Max's stubbornness. She loved that he cared so much, but at the same time, she didn't want him to feel guilty for something that was out of his control.

"Max," she said gently, trying to make him understand. "You do take care of us, even from miles away. Just knowing that you're there for me, that you love us, it means everything. We're a team, remember? We're in this together."

There was another silence on the line, and she could practically picture Max clenching his jaw. She knew that he wanted to protest, that he wanted to argue, to find a solution to make things right. But he also understood that there was nothing he could do right now but accept the situation.

Finally, he sighed, the sound a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Okay," he said quietly. "But promise me you'll try to eat and sleep properly. Promise me you'll take care of yourself and our baby."

Colette couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks at his concern. She could hear the love and worry in his voice, the desperate plea for her to take care of herself.

"I promise," she whispered, her voice wobbly but firm. "I'll take care of myself. For you, for Bébé. I promise."

She would even let go of the fact that she was pretty sure that her family were babysitting her. When her mother went home after breakfast, it didn't take too long for Arthur to show up, happily ignoring her pointing out that he actually had work to do and instead he joined her on the couch watching re-runs of The Real Housewives.

Colette rolled her eyes at Arthur's unashamed enjoyment of the reality TV show. He had always been a sucker for messy drama, and the housewives provided plenty of that.

"You are ridiculous," she mumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Oh, shut up," Arthur retorted cheerfully, his eyes never leaving the screen. "You love this show and you know it."

"I do not," Colette protested, but it sounded halfhearted, even to her own ears.

Quite frankly, she would rather watch fake drama on TV than think about the one happening in real life to her.

Bébé decided at that moment to kick her in her ribs again and she grimaced.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked her immediately.

Colette let out a wince as the baby kicked her again. "Yeah, just baby kicking my ribs again. It's getting more and more frequent," she mumbled, rubbing the spot on her stomach where the baby had kicked.

Arthur chuckled. "The baby's probably just feeling cramped. They want more space," he teased.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," Colette replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe the baby's just getting impatient and wants to come out already," Arthur said with a shrug, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Don't even joke about that," Colette said, her tone serious. "I still have another month to go. He better stay in there until then.”

She still had around 4 weeks of pregnancy left. 

"Still thinking it's a boy?" Arthur asked her curious.

Colette nodded, her hand still resting on her stomach. "Yeah, I just have a feeling. Call it a mother's intuition," she said with a small smile.

Arthur rolled his eyes in amusement. "Or just wishful thinking," he teased her.  "Isn't Max convinced it's a girl?" 

Colette chuckled, thinking about Max's adamant belief that the baby was a girl. "Yeah, he is. He has ordered a bunch of dresses online," she said with a laugh. “And hairbows...so many hairbows…If it's a boy, I don't know what I'll do with all of them."

Arthur started laughing.

Colette shot him a playful glare. "Don't laugh at my predicament," she said, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Arthur couldn't help himself, bursting into another fit of laughter. "I'm sorry, it's just too funny picturing Max buying all those dresses and hairbows," he managed to say between chuckles. 

Her phone pinged again.  Colette huffed in irritation as Arthur picked up her phone before she could. "Hey, that's mine," she protested.

Arthur just shot her a cheeky grin. "Finders keepers," he teased, waving the phone just out of her reach. "Besides, no more doomscrolling for you," her younger brother told her seriously.

Colette rolled her eyes at his reprimand, but deep down, she knew he was right. "I wasn't doomscrolling," she mumbled petulantly, even though she knew it was a blatant lie.

"I just...People are making up opinions about me and my life and they don't know me," she said weakly. "That's why I don't even have a public Instagram in the first place, Arthur. I just want to live my life without worrying about what people are going to think..."

"What does it matter what they think?" Arthur asked her curiously.

Colette let out a frustrated sigh. "It shouldn't matter, I know it shouldn't," she said firmly. "But it does. Maybe it's human nature to care what other people think, I don't know."

She ran a hand through her hair tiredly. "I just don't want people to judge me, to make assumptions about my life and my decisions."

Arthur nodded in understanding. "I get it," he said softly. "It can be hard to block out the noise. But you have to remember that the only opinion that matters is your own."

Colette let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, tell that to the media," she mumbled, but there was no vitriol in her voice, just resignation.

Arthur huffed, shaking his head. "The media don't know what they're talking about. They just want the next big headline, the next scandal. They don't care about the truth."

Colette sighed, slumping back on the couch. "I just wish they'd leave me alone," she mumbled. "I just want to have my baby in peace."

Arthur patted her leg comfortingly. "Just focus on yourself and the baby," he said firmly. "Everything else is just background noise."

Colette nodded, taking a deep breath. He was right, of course. “They have this picture of me in their head, that’s very different from the actual person,” she said weakly. “And now they judge me for something that they don’t even know what it was, because it’s not public. They just take Russell’s word and run with it…”

Arthur's expression darkened as she vented. "I know," he said softly. "It's unfair and it sucks. But you can't let it get to you."

Colette sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I know. I know.”

"You don't owe anyone anything," Arthur said firmly. "You don't have to justify yourself to anyone. Max would say the same."

Colette smiled wryly at the mention of Max. She could almost hear his voice in her head, telling her the same thing.

She closed her eyes, picturing Max's face in her mind. He always knew what to say to keep her grounded, to keep her from spiralling into a dark pit of despair. She missed him, more than she thought was possible.

"I just wish Maxie was here," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion.

[hyba]

Thanks for this addition!!!!! 100% agree with you with regards to how important tension is to horror; it's practically 90% of the story sometimes haha. I also thought that eliminating the threat of a 'bad ending' and giving the reader that confidence that all would be resolved and the protagonists/characters will be alright in the end, might make horror more of a cozy experience.

I was actually talking to someone today and brought up how maybe liminal space horror could also be cozy horror to an extent? Not the kind with a full-on monster stalking you I guess, but just the idea of being stuck in a liminal space setting and trying to escape. Some games have done this in such a way that you're exploring these spaces, and they're scary and unsettling, but at least you know that nothing's going to jump out at you; no monster truly lurks beneath the water, or in the dark shadows. It's all just unsettling but harmless. And at some point you can (hopefully) find your way out and not walk the 'backrooms' forever. High stakes, no real danger.

(So, like you said, the feeling of safety is I think a critical element - but that brings me back to the idea of fiction being fiction, and doesn't that by extension create a feeling of safety on its own for the reader, because none of it is real? Or maybe I'm going too far lol XD)

In that case, off the top of my head, these are the kinds of stories that would become cozy horror by that definition (no bad ending):

The Conjuring (2013)

Get Out (2017)

Dracula by Bram Stoker

(As an aside, the issue with readers knowing that nothing bad will happen in the end kind of negates the way in which horror works through the use of the unknown and reader uncertainty, at least in part.)

I'm not sure if I'd group the horror experience of all three as similar, and I'm not sure that they have similar amounts of tension. But the stakes are all essentially the same: soul/self (damnation/loss of self). Relatively high stakes lol, but they have good endings... I wonder?

In my head, the way that this idea of cozy [genre] works is we actually remove the stakes in the story, because they're there, but we're signalling to the reader that the main character(s) aren't really going to have to deal with those stakes much, and will overcome them regardless of what's thrown at them. So, you have stakes, but you don't really have stakes, if that makes sense. So, you can have high stakes, too, like in horror, because you don't really have stakes; the characters will prevail.

I also wonder, how much of a 'good' ending would qualify something as a cozy horror? And what about stories with bittersweet endings, like The Others (2001), where the revelation at the end is like "Oh, okay, so they're actually safe, nothing's wrong, but that's because they're the ones who are doing the haunting"? It's a relatively good ending, but also not quite the good ending we're expecting.

Apart from that, if we consider other cozy genres, like cozy murder mysteries, it usually takes place in small towns, with average-joe 'detectives', both of which carry over to horror really well. Lots of horror is in a small, limited space like a small town, and lots of horror features protagonists who are just normal people thrown into terrible situations and having to claw their way out of them. The upbeat-uplifting tone of cozy mysteries, however... I think it would be interesting for sure to try and apply that in horror. It might come off sounding ironic, perhaps even play into comedy horror a little, too.

I haven't read any SCP stories or House of Leaves, but I've been meaning to for some time now. Maybe after I finish my current read!

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[kisakis-boyfriend]

OH SHIT UH baizhu x monster reader because I've been thinking about him lately. maybe something dubcon-y? I love pathetic men whimpering and crying 🎃

Author's Note: My mind went places, y'all… very horny places. 💀

Pairings: Baizhu x male reader

Warnings: Male plant monster!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Baizhu, sort of gullible Baizhu, dubcon, handjob, facial, riding, aphrodisiac, mild dumbification

Why he had to run out of this particular herb was beyond him. As if that wasn't annoying enough, his suppliers were out of stock and wouldn't be able to ship him any more. The location of this herb has become increasingly dangerous, and no one could figure out why the men sent to gather these herbs came back… weird, to say the least. Nonetheless, Baizhu needed those herbs to treat his patients.

Was it a stupid idea to travel out there by himself and gather them by hand; yes, most certainly, and Changsheng told him as much, but a doctor's mind is a puzzling thing.

And that's how he ended up here; in the high mountains of Chenyu Vale. Normally, one would expect to run into a few monsters, at the very least, but Baizhu had yet to see a single one during his trek. There were plenty of other creatures, and the foliage didn't seem withered, so it's not as if this place was devoid of life nor on a biological decline—there was simply a lack of danger. Which is a strange occurrence, considering the reports he'd read…

That fact really should be comforting to the frail doctor, but in truth, it made a shiver run down his spine. His eyes nervously scanned over the immediate grassy grounds, hoping to catch a glimpse of the herb he so desperately needed — desperate enough to set foot on this mountain alone.

It took a bit more searching, but the herb in question was flourishing just around the back of one particular mountain. Baizhu carefully made his way towards the area, picking one herb and inspecting it to check its quality and that it was, in fact, the correct herb. Picking a few more, Baizhu comes across one plant that refuses to be plucked — an unusually tough herb, resisting his attempts to yank it out from the dirt.

As he goes to inspect the stem, a soft voice cries out; “U-um… excuse me? Could you help me…?” Looking over his shoulder, the doctor spots a person's head sticking up out of the ground—except their skin has a pale green hue to it, and as this person rises up, he notices how the ground around them shifts; as though the ground is a part of them.

Baizhu turns halfway, cautiously keeping an eye on you as he questions, “…What do you need help with?” The way your body flows effortlessly when you move—creating ripples in the immediate area around your torso—piques Baizhu's curiosity.

“O-oh! Um… it's a little embarrassing, if I'm being honest, sir…” you begin, “As you've probably guessed, I am not a human — think of me as a type of dendro spirit, I guess? Uh, anyways, there's this…ritual, of sorts, that only a human can help me with–”

The whole time you're explaining this predicament of yours, Baizhu keeps a watchful eye on you to make sure you're not tricking him. Even though you come across as rather sheepish.

“…I understand if you don't trust me, I just don't know what else to do…humans don't come around here too often, and the pain has become so much worse–”

“I'll help you.” He interjects. The sparkles in your eyes force him to hold back a chuckle as you thank him a million times over. “Please take me to this plant of yours.”

You excitedly take off, essentially a torso and head gliding halfway inside the ground, while this kind human with green hair trails just behind. Arriving at your destination, Baizhu kneels down, giving you a glance, and you return it nervously.

Baizhu eyes the plant inquisitively, staring at the odd shape and strange fleshy texture of the whole thing.

“Go on, doctor, I-I'm ready…” you prompt, giving the man a shy smile to mask your nerves.

With a quick breath to strengthen his resolve, the doctor raises his hands, wrapping them both around the plant and lightly squeezing it until a wet substance seeps out through the petals. “A-ah! aAh-” you gasp suddenly.

“I'm sorry—did that hurt?!”

You shake your head, nearly whimpering as you try to assure him, “N-no… just surprised me. Your hands… they're a bit cold…”

“My apologies, they should warm up soon enough. Shall we keep going?” Said like a true doctor. This stranger with kind eyes has been nothing but gentle with you so far, helping out a non-human creature whom he only met a few minutes ago, even if he finds your request a tad strange.

More wetness falls down his hands, pouring from the plant the more he squeezes and twists his hands around the elongated object. He experimentally moves his hands to other areas, and when Baizhu's thumbs rub and press on the tip of the plant, you're unable to hold back a sharp intake of air. Your eyes roll back momentarily, and you chomp down on your lower lip to conceal the noises threatening to escape.

The doctor eyes your pained expressions with worry written all over his face. “It's… fine — I'm fine. The pain… is not that bad… please, don't stop, doctor.”

As you wish, Baizhu milks more and more liquid from the plant, creating a pool of it underneath the stem of the plant—gradually creeping towards his knees and threatening to soak his pants. For the most part, it feels and looks like regular water, but there's a faint sensation of stickiness on his palms, close to the surface of the plant.

While this is supposed to be a medical procedure, Baizhu can't help feeling a bit… embarrassed by the whole situation. This plant of yours—it is a bit phallic. Not to mention how the method used to wring out the liquid is akin to… uh, a specific hand movement performed on phallic objects. The suggestive sounds coming from your mouth don't help that either. Baizhu can't ignore you when you moan out “Faster… faster, doctor- aah~ Keep stroking it like that… it's definitely woRKING-!”

The more Baizhu watches himself squeeze the glistening liquid from your plant, the deeper into a trance he falls — soon enough he's fallen so deep that he shamelessly jerks off the phallic plant until the tip opens up and explodes like a volcano; shooting thick, honey-like ropes all over Baizhu's pretty face.

The substance drips all down his features — clumping in strands of hair, clinging to his glasses, dripping from his nose and chin, and even a little sliding into his open mouth. “A-ah! Y-you… you did it… you made me release it all, doctor~” you comment — your words are the only thing penetrating that fuzzy mind of his right now. “Thank you soooo much~ But, could I trouble you with one more thing?” you lean forward, gently holding the doctor's chin so that he can't turn away from you. “Won't you help me again? It's the only way for me to feel all better.”

“Aah…? I don't… understand…” Baizhu breathes, confused and seemingly in a daze. It's such a precious sight to behold, really.

You reach out and slide a hand up and down the doctor's stomach, teasingly pushing his top up a few times before moving towards the edge of his pants. “You'll help me, won't you? You're such a kind doctor, after all~” you remind him. Baizhu's pants are quickly yanked down, removed the rest of the way by vines that the good doctor never noticed before…

With his sensitive areas laid bare for you to see, Baizhu gasps, frozen in place as your hands feel up his waist and thighs, pushing the latter apart so that you can inspect his body. Sliding two fingers towards his rear, you find that special hole humans have and tease around the rim of it. “Aha! There it is. I'm sorry to ask so much of you, but… I really need this right now.”

While he has no idea what you mean, the doctor senses something amiss within your words. Your fingers attempt to push inside of him, and Baizhu clumsily refuses. “I-I don't think… don't think that I can do that, young man… mm ooh~”

Impatiently, you lift him up and pull him towards you, hovering his hole right above the plant he'd previously milked. A little burst of liquid shoots from the tip, splashing against Baizhu's entrance, which startles him. The consistency of the liquid feels just like the substance it coated his face in earlier; thick, sticky, and warm.

While Baizhu's mind tries to resist, his body is doing quite the opposite, already lowering itself down until the tip of the plant is entering his ass. “A-AAH! Wait–!” he begs. But it's too little too late as your phallic plant penetrates him with ease, thanks to that honey-like fluid. The fleshy appendage pushes a wave of liquid inside his hole, and it creates a wet mess all over his ass, thighs, and the ground below as you begin to fuck him.

“Mm doctor… you feel incredible~ Hehe, look at that—this little guy is having fun too~” Baizhu blushes deeply, shaking his head while you watch his cock bounce every time your plant cock thrusts in.

“N-no… please, harder–! This is weird… aah~ so good~ ” the doctor grits his teeth, biting his lower lip as he grows frustrated by his own mouth betraying him. The cutest whimpers are the only sounds coming from his mouth as you continue your assault on his hole, thrusting your plant deeper and deeper. The amount of liquid gushing out of Baizhu's ass is ungodly now; sticky, squelchy, slick fluids that overflow with every thrust, filling his tummy until it hurts with how full it is.

“You're doing amazing, doctor! That terrible ache is almost gone, I j-just need to– guh!” you suddenly slam your hips into him, laughing as a pang of pleasure wracks your body and causes you to bury your cock in him. Your hands fly to his waist, and you bounce the human while he whimpers some more.

Tears begin to roll down Baizhu's cheeks, staining his glasses with a salty film as you release another round of that thick substance; this time inside the doctor's body. You pant wildly, mere inches from his face while your plant cock spreads open inside of his hole, releasing far too much liquid inside his belly.

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

Navigating a Fade manifestation of Lucanis' PTSD as the underwater prison he was held and tortured in, to help him start dismantling his fears, begin healing and also accepting Spite, to help them both stop fighting for control, is certainly not on the list of things I expected from this game, but I'm so in love with it.

Even before that, you just know that Lucanis is not alright. He can't possibly be. He doesn't talk about it much, but who would be after the experiences he's had? And there are signs all over the place. I mean, he keeps hiding in the closed space of the pantry like a feral cat under a couch, and likely not just because of Spite, for example. But he keeps it all in, just like he keeps Spite in. Or out, even, in this case. But you also know that he can't go on like that forever.

And now, Lucanis has finally hit the wall. Thankfully, Spite knows what to do. So, he briefly takes the steering wheel. "Help us." ("He'll listen! He always listens to you!" I feel totally normal about knowing this, thanks, Spite.)

Just... the doors of Lucanis' mental prison opening for Rook by themselves as they gently talk down each manifestation of Lucanis' fears and doubts as a metaphor for Lucanis letting Rook in and letting himself be vulnerable with them is just 👌 Delightful. We don't break a single lock. He opens himself up to us.

And it doesn't magically solve all his problems and restore his mental health, of course, but it's a promising start. I like how the game acknowledges this. Rook is there for him, easing some of the worst thoughts, lending him perspective that he lacks because his mental downwards spiral is so thoroughly suffocating at that point. They're helping him start somewhere. Of course, helping Lucanis reach an understanding with Spite, thus helping him end the constant and surely stressful and exhausting battle over his own body there and then, showing him that Rook accepts and cares about him the way he is, so he can start accepting himself that way, goes a long way. It doesn't fix everything, but it's an important breakthrough.

The way Lucanis looks at Rook afterwards, when Teia asks them if they're alright? Also great. 👌

Though I think Rook should be able to hold Lucanis for at least like 300 hours afterwards, because that's approximately the amount of time I need to cry about it - the whole thing, Lucanis' dynamic with Rook, and Spite's trust for Rook and his willingness to play nice despite having been ignored and pushed away for so long.

Actually, poor Spite doesn't get enough credit for all that. He really goes, "Fuck, if he's not going let me in or go to Rook for help, I'm going to pull them into the deepest crevices of his psyche, so they can see the mess for themselves," and improves the situation for himself, Lucanis, and his budding relationship. Good job, Spite!

[avonnimimi]

❀·°∗✧🌸✧∗°·❀

Tease

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an: i think this might have been a bit rushed, it was incomplete in my drafts and I just decided to finish it for ya ;) i feel like the pics don’t match the aesthetic of this but it’s wtv. MEN AND MINORS DNI

content: Vi has a penis (wanted to try smth different), phone sex, dom!vi, mean!vi, name calling, nudes, breeding, cursing. lmk if i missed anything!

━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━

You weren’t usually a tease. Sure, Vi always teased you, but this time, you wanted to turn the tables. Your friends were always talking about the stuff they’d send their husbands at work, risqué pictures, flirty texts, whatever it took to leave them a mess. And, of course, you wanted to see that side of Vi. You wanted to know what she’d be like if you pushed her just a little too far.

You knew she had a big meeting today. She’d told you this morning, her tone calm but firm as she kissed your forehead before leaving. “Don’t distract me today, baby,” she’d said with a small smile. “I really need to focus.” Not mean, not harsh, just focused. And yet, that only made it more tempting.

You slipped into your white lingerie, the one she loved. It was delicate, soft against your skin, hugging your body just right. You stood in front of the mirror, hesitating for only a moment before snapping a few pictures, angling yourself to show just enough to drive her crazy.

Your heart pounded as you hit send. And then… you waited.

Minutes turned into hours. You changed back into your normal clothes, went out for errands, tried to distract yourself, but the anticipation gnawed at you. Maybe she was too busy. Maybe she wasn’t going to say anything at all. You started to feel a little embarrassed. But then your phone rang.

It was her.

You answered immediately, trying to hide the nervous flutter in your chest. “Hi, baby!” you said, your voice light and cheerful.

There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then you heard it, a soft, wet squelching noise. Your heart skipped a beat as the familiar sound registered in your head.

“Baby,” Vi’s voice came through, breathy and ragged. “Fuck, those pictures. They were amazing. Got my cock so swollen for you, mama.”

Your cheeks burned, heat spreading through your body as you heard her, really heard her. Her voice was shaky, desperate, like she was barely holding herself together. And the sounds… the wet, rhythmic strokes of her hand working her cock filled the line, obscene and raw.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered, your voice catching in your throat. You didn’t expect her to sound like this, so needy and wrecked. She wasn’t teasing you or playing it cool. She was falling apart, and you could hear it in every whimper, every sharp hitch of her breath.

“Fuck,” she groaned, her voice breaking. “Put me in such a tough spot, baby. Sitting through that meeting with my cock this hard, trying not to think about you. About how you’d look bent over my desk, wearing that fucking lingerie.” She let out a low, desperate whine that sent a shiver down your spine. “God, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve got me so fucked up.”

You didn’t say anything, your lips parted as you listened to her unravel. You’d never heard her like this, so shameless, so absolutely desperate for relief. “Wanna stuff up that slutty pussy so good,” She groans. Every wet stroke of her hand was loud in your ear, her breath coming faster and faster as she chased her release.

“Baby,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “I wish I was there. Wish I could bury my cock in you, feel you squeezing me so fucking tight. I’d let you ride me—fuck, I’d let you do anything you wanted to me. Just want to feel you, mama. Need you so bad.”

Your thighs clenched instinctively, but you didn’t dare move. You listened intently, your heart pounding as she whimpered your name, her voice trembling with need.

“I’m close,” she panted, her strokes getting faster. You could hear how messy it was, the slick, obscene sounds of her cock leaking as she fucked into her hand like a man possessed. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Baby, I—fuck, I can’t—”

She let out a choked groan, the sound raw and guttural as she came. You could hear everything, the way her strokes slowed, the wet noises of her cock spilling over her hand, her breathing uneven and shaky as she came down.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her catching her breath. Then she let out a soft laugh, her voice still hoarse. “Goddamn, baby,” she murmured, her tone warm and affectionate now. “You’re gonna kill me one day, you know that?”

You smiled to yourself, your heart still racing. “I didn’t mean to distract you that much,” you teased, even though you absolutely did.

Vi chuckled, the sound soft and low. “You’re lucky I love you,” she said, her voice still tinged with exhaustion. “But don’t touch yourself, okay? I want you to wait for me. Gonna take care of you properly when I get home.”

“Okay,” you said sweetly, even though you already knew you weren’t going to listen.

After you hung up, the silence in the room felt deafening. Your body was buzzing, your skin hot, your panties soaked from just listening to her. You bit your lip, glancing at the clock. She wouldn’t be home for hours.

You sat back on the couch, your hand already sliding down between your legs. “Sorry, Vi,” you whispered to yourself, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. “I can’t wait.”

You closed your eyes, her voice still fresh in your mind, the way she whimpered, the wet sound of her stroking herself, the way she’d called your name like it was the only thing keeping her sane. It didn’t take long before you were trembling, your fingers working you over as you replayed the call in your head.

When you came, it was with her name on your lips, your body arching as the pleasure crashed over you. You lay there for a moment afterward, your chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. Guilt prickled at the edges of your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

She didn’t have to know.

The key turning in the lock announced Vi’s arrival, earlier than anticipated. A wave of panic mixed with lingering arousal washed over you. You smoothed your clothes, attempting a casual facade, but Vi’s knowing gaze saw through the charade. A predatory smile curved her lips.

“Hey, baby,” she purred, her voice thick with unspoken promises. The closing door clicked shut, amplifying the sudden silence. The air thrummed with a thick tension.

“Hi,” you managed, your voice betraying a nervous tremor. Your heart hammered against your ribs.

Vi advanced, her movements deliberate and predatory. Her fingers traced your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. “Did you miss me?” she whispered, her thumb brushing your lower lip.

You nodded, the lie catching in your throat. “Of course.”

“Good,” she breathed, her eyes darkening. “Because I missed you too.” Her hand tightened possessively on your thigh. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

Your hesitation, the averted gaze, was all the confirmation she needed. Vi’s grip intensified, her fingers digging into your flesh. “Don’t lie to me,” she growled, her voice low and menacing. “I can smell it on you. Hear it in your voice. Feel the dampness already clinging to my fingers.”

Your breath hitched, your body betraying your deceit. Vi’s eyes gleamed with a predatory triumph. “You’re so wet for me,” she murmured, her hand sliding higher, pushing your skirt up with impatient fingers. “You were thinking about me, weren’t you? Imagining what I’d do to you when I got home.”

You nodded softly. “You couldn’t wait for me to stuff you up real good,”

Before you could respond, she shoved you back against the couch, her body a heavy weight pinning you down. “Gonna give this little cunt what she wants.” she growled, her teeth nipping at your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses down to your collarbone.

Her hand delved between your legs, her fingers finding your slick folds. You gasped, arching into her touch despite the fear coiling in your stomach. “Vi,” you whimpered, a plea lost in the rising tide of sensation.

“Quiet,” she commanded, her long fingers pumping into you, curling so nicely in your sopping hole. “You don’t get to talk now. You just get to feel.”

Her fingers plunged deep, exploring your wet heat. “Soaked,” she murmured against your ear, her breath hot and ragged. “Just for me.” You cried out, your body bucking beneath her.

She leaned back, her eyes burning into yours. “You like that, don’t you?” she whispered, a cruel smile twisting her lips. “You like being used.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but the undeniable thrill spiraling through you couldn’t be ignored. Vi saw it, the flicker of desire in your gaze, and her smile widened.

She withdrew her fingers with a slick, obscene pop. You whimpered at the loss, your body thrumming with a desperate need. Vi reached down, unbuckling her belt with a sharp, metallic click. Her cock sprung out, tip angry and leaking precum. “Gonna nut in this cunt.” she growled, her voice thick with possessiveness.

She yanked your legs apart, roughly aligning herself with your entrance. You braced yourself, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. Then, with a brutal thrust, she buried herself deep inside you.

You cried out, the feeling of her filling you, stretching you, overwhelming your senses. She lets out a loud groan, “God I love this pussy, so fucking creamy,” She began to move, her thrusts hard and fast, each one a punishing blow. The couch creaked beneath the frantic rhythm of their bodies. “You’re so tight,” she groaned, her voice strained with pleasure. “So fucking perfect.”

Her thick cock kissing your cervix so good you swore you saw stars, your cunt squelching, basically talking to Vi. Clit swollen, glistening with your juices.

She slammed into you again and again, her hips a blur of motion. The room spun around you, a dizzying vortex of sensation. You could feel her building, the tension coiling tight in her core.

Vi begins to whine, you clench harshly around her, “fuckkkkk yes princess just like that.” Her eyes roll back. “I’m gonna cum,” she growled. “I’m gonna cum inside this pretty fucking pussy.”

And with one final, savage thrust, she did. You felt her release flood you, hot and thick, pulsing deep within you. She collapsed on top of you, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her weight a welcome pressure.

You lay there, entangled, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of her possession.

—————————————————————————

this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2024

[vaspider]

I am finding it ... let's call it amusing... that I assumed for like 45 years of my life that everybody knew who John Calvin was, and I wasn't some raised-extremely-religious weirdo for knowing all the church history shit that I do, and that everybody knew this. And then my perspective changed bc I was confronted with a bunch of people who had never heard of him, never had to study anything about the Protestant Reformation at school, nothing. No clue. I spend a couple of years running into the need to explain who John Calvin is and why I hate him over and over, which I wasn't doing before that because I had just assumed that we all knew who John Calvin was and we all fucking hate him so we didn't need to talk about it just like how we don't spend a lot of time talking about why we breathe air. In that stretch of time, it quickly becomes apparent to me that unless a random American was raised like I was, bc most of the Catholics I talk to don't know him either, they probably didn't encounter Calvin in their standard K12 education, so I no longer expect random Tumblr Americans to know who he is...

... and then a bunch of people start bitching when I say I don't expect people to know unless they're raised religious! Like! Where were y'all the last 2 years? XD

I will say that like... I had no idea how religious my family was until I went to college, basically. I thought my family was a very normal amount of religious. I did not realize that most people don't have cousins named after French Reformation philosophers and didn't have to defend their decision to attend Quaker meetings by explaining why I found George Fox's philosophies more compelling than John Wesley's (and then my mom was just like, well, at least you're not getting up early on Sunday and going to hide in the woods so you can't be forced to go to church). In retrospect, it's kinda like the comic with Calvin's dad and "the crazy hedonism of the weekends," but I thought that everyone thought their parents were that kind of weird. Obviously. That's why Watterson wrote the comic, right?

Ah well.

[aventurineswife]

platonic aventurine meeting teen/younger reader whos also an avgin who somehow survived

The Last of Us

Summary: Aventurine, the last surviving member of the Avgins, encounters you, a person with strikingly familiar eyes, in a crowded city. The encounter stirs up memories of his past, leading him to wonder how someone else from his people could be alive. Despite his carefully controlled demeanor, he is intrigued by your survival and offers a gift as a gesture of connection. The encounter leaves both of you contemplating the nature of your shared history and future.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Avgin!Teen!Reader, Slow burn, Survival, Intrigue, Psychological tension.

Warnings: Potential for darker themes (survival, manipulation, past trauma), Subtle emotional manipulation, Complex relationship dynamics(?).

Aventurine leaned against the cool marble of the courtyard, the noise of the city behind him almost lost to his thoughts. His fingers, ringed with gold, drummed lightly on the surface of his watch, and his eyes scanned the crowd with practiced ease.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

He had survived it all—betrayal, the fall of his people, and the cruel hand of fate. He was the last of the Avgins, a survivor by sheer luck, and yet, there you were.

A teenager, no older than sixteen, with the same striking eyes that haunted his past. A gaze that mirrored his own.

Aventurine's heart, normally calm in the face of danger, stuttered for a moment. His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing you from across the street. You didn't notice him yet, and he made no move to call attention to himself. No, he needed to understand.

Why do you have those eyes?

His lips parted in a thoughtful smile, though it never reached his eyes. How could this be? He, who had thought himself the sole survivor of the Avgins, had now stumbled upon another. But if you were alive… how?

He pushed himself away from the marble wall and moved a few steps forward. His presence was commanding, yet deliberate. The closer he drew, the faster his pulse ran; a feeling of anticipation ran through his veins. He didn't know whether he was more intrigued or unsettled, but he had to know. Had to hear the story that could change everything for him.

"Hello, my friend," he said smoothly, his voice a mix of warmth and curiosity as he stepped into your line of sight. "It seems fate has brought us together."

You looked up, surprised at first, but something in his eyes made you pause. There was no fear behind that gaze; there was only calculation, the kind of look that belonged to someone who had seen the world's cruelty and yet still found a way to push it into being manipulated to their advantage.

His gaze softened slightly as he took another step closer, hands casually slipping into his pockets, but his eyes—those unnervingly captivating eyes—never left you.

“I must admit,” he continued, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of something deeper, “I didn’t expect to see another Avgin. Not after all these years.”

His words hung in the air, an invitation to speak, or remain silent.

You paused, and it was clear that a thousand thoughts had rushed through your mind. You shifted uncomfortably, but there was something about his presence, something almost magnetic, that kept you rooted in place.

"Aventurine," he added, as if that would somehow make you at ease. "You can call me that. It's not often that someone else comes along with a similar history."

There was no urgency in his tone, no need to pry. It was simply curiosity. But underneath that, there was something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

“I... I don’t know what to say.” You looked away for a moment, your fingers curling around the hem of your sleeve, nervously avoiding his gaze.

"Nothing," he said promptly, his mouth twisting upwards at the corners. "You don't have to say anything, not yet. I'm simply intrigued by your survival. You remind me of someone."

He softened his eyes with the barest trace of nostalgia, before he covered it with a practiced smile. "I won't lie—I'm fascinated. But it's not just about the past. It's about what happens next."

He caught your eyes for a short period; between you, there was some weird sense of understanding, that somehow, he was speaking to himself and not to you. The same loneliness that had driven you both to survive. No pity, though—but in a way, unspoken: You won't be lonely again.

And maybe that was the most shocking of all. A connection, however brief, formed out of sheer chance. And in that moment, the world seemed a little smaller, a little less cold.

Aventurine stepped back, raising his hand in a dramatic, almost theatrical gesture, before pulling out a small, velvet pouch from his coat. He held it out to you, his smile never wavering, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something more serious.

"Take it," he said, his voice laced with sincerity. "Something small to remind you that you're not alone in this. Not anymore."

You stared at the pouch, weighing his gesture, before you took it, reluctantly. He beamed with pleasure at your hesitation—he knew you would.

"Consider it a gift," he continued, his voice softening. "And maybe... consider it the beginning of a partnership. You see, I believe we could help each other. The world is full of chaos, but perhaps there's a way to navigate it. Together."

He turned his back to you, his form looming against the backdrop of the city, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had already planned your next move.

“I’ll be around,” he called over his shoulder, that knowing smile still evident in his voice. “I’ll be waiting, my friend.”

But perhaps, just this once, you would gamble with him.

As you watched him walk away, a strange sense of camaraderie lingered in the air. You didn’t know what to make of him yet, but one thing was certain—Aventurine was right. Fate had brought you together, and now it seemed it would keep you entwined in his complex game, whether you liked it or not.

[writergeekrhw]

There's a Reddit screenshot going around (including here on Tumblr, Wil Wheaton reblogged a post about it) where a Trump supporter got whiny that at the Vegas convention this year, a couple of the Voyager actors were asked about their political beliefs by a fan, and they answered by praising Kamala Harris and condemning Trump and Trump supporters. This person on Reddit (not the same person who asked the politics question at the con) was upset because they felt they and their friends "learned that 7 of 9 hates them" and they were roundly made fun of for expecting that a Star Trek convention wouldn't contain anything that contradicts their MAGA beliefs given that, you know, it's such a progressive show where the future is LITERALLY luxury space communism, and where it has always spoken in favor of diversity.

This led to a bigger discussion about the place of politics in fandom spaces. I personally would understand not talking about electoral politics if we were in a normal election, like Obama vs. Romney, even though the Republicans even then advocated a lot of things that I think is at odds with what Star Trek says. But I don't think people who voted for them were necessarily hateful. I don't think they are people I can't share fandom with, you know? We can be friends. But I think with Trump people are hateful, or at the very least they're okay with hate, given how often he spews it and encourages it in his supporters. I'm a lesbian and I absolutely do feel less safe around people who wear MAGA hats in a way I just didn't around Romney or McCain or Bush supporters. My opinion personally is that it's probably a mistake and what got us to where we are today (sending this in late September 2024, where Harris is slightly up in the polls but it's still very close and Republicans are trying to ratfuck the vote in a bunch of swing states - maybe by the time you answer, the election will be over and we'll know?) that we didn't do enough to recognize that Trump support is either bigotry, or support for bigotry, in a way that should be socially unacceptable and treated as such. That we should have deployed more social shaming over it, especially in places that should be understood to be safe spaces for diverse groups of people, like the fandom of a series like Star Trek.

I was wondering what you thought about this topic. Personally, while I don't think American electoral politics need to be in every aspect of a convention, finding out that actors who played characters I like, writers who wrote shows I love, etc. are supportive of my basic civil rights, not just in broad platitudes but also in how they vote, is really heartening and makes me feel more "welcomed" in fandom. It makes me feel safer there. And the fact that Trump supporters feel excluded also makes it a safer space IMO, because I don't feel safe around those people. I have Republican friends - but none of them who have voted for Trump.

I commented on that while I was still on Xitter. I honestly worry Trump may pose an existential threat to our democracy. I think others feel similarly. I suspect Jeri Ryan, who's seen the rot inside the GOP firsthand, has particularly strong feelings about that as well. So it's no surprise she chose to speak out before the election. And it's certainly her right.

I think it's a bit silly for fans of a franchise that has a strong progressive POV to feel alienated when the artists involved in said franchise embrace its philosophy and choose to take a stand for it.

I worry for us all over the next four years, but the voters have spoken. We'll see how it goes.

[tkwrites]

Split & Healed - A snapshot in two parts - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @kawhh

Title: Split & Healed - a Snapshot in two parts - Part 1 

Part 2

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: talks of Quinns lip injury; hurt/comfort

Summary: Sarah's reaction when Quinn's lip was split.

Word count: 1,800

Anonymous asked: The commentators mentioned Quinn is still struggling to speak with that monster of a split lip. How was Sarah's reaction? Was she there? Does he catch her just staring at him with pity throughout the day because like same 😫

Comments: Nonnie, you sent this in and I had an immediate vision of Sarah putting ointment on Quinns mouth, so I had to write it out. And the actual wounding. 

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Split & Healed - a Snapshot in two parts - Part 1 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

She was there. It happened, and she was immediately up, pacing back and forth in the family and friends box, clinging to her phone as she waited to hear from him. 

When five minutes went by without any word, she sent him a message, hoping to break the tension as well as get an update: If he broke your nose, I swear to God, I’m going to kill him. 

Quinn snorted before responding, my nose is fine. My lip is another story. 

What happened? 

His stick caught me just right and busted through my lip and some of my gums. Have to get stitches. 

Through? 

A gruesome selfie popped up on her screen and she yelped as her phone flew out of her hand.

“What’s wrong?” Bella asked, running to her side. 

Sarah grimaced, “Quinn just sent me a picture of his lip.”

“Really,” Bella reached to pick it up.

“You don’t want to see, I promise.” 

Bella turned the device over anyway, and turned a delicate shade of green. “Oh, gross.” 

“I did try to warn you,” Sarah said as she took the phone back and clicked out of the image so she could respond.

Oh my god, warn a girl!

Quinn chuckled and was immediately reprimanded by the doctor currently stitching his lip. He went still and tried not to think too much about what was happening on the ice without him. 

Even seeing his picture of the gash – which she was pretty certain she could have seen his teeth through if the blood was mopped up and he moved just right – didn’t prepare her for seeing him that night when he got home after the game.

He slumped into the apartment, holding a towel wrapped ice pack to his mouth. 

“Hey,” she said tentatively, setting her book aside and standing to greet him.  

“Hey,” he echoed morosely. 

“Can I see?” she asked, reaching up to take his wrist. 

Quinn felt a pained expression flash over his face. Not because it was hurting. They’d numbed his whole lip so they could put the stitches in without any pain and so he could keep playing, but it looked awful. Even though he’d washed the blood off in his post game shower, the wound looked almost worse now that some swelling had set in. 

“It’s okay,” she promised, nudging his hand down.

Quinn watched her face as he lowered the ice pack. 

“Oh, Quinn.” 

He’d expected her to wince, and instead she was looking at him with all this deep pity in her eyes. He couldn’t decide which was worse. 

“Is it still numb?” she asked, stopping her hand in midair as it instinctively reached up to touch it. 

He nodded. “Doc said –” he broke off, wincing at his voice. It was like getting out of the dentist in the worst way. Not only was his lip numb, it was swollen, and wouldn’t do anything he wanted it to, making talking normally impossible. 

“Doc said,” she prompted, ignoring the lisp. If she were in his shoes, she’d hate people reacting to it. 

“Said I should ice it,” he said, gesturing with the pack, “help the swelling.” 

“Makes sense.” 

He sighed heavily. 

“Can I get you anything?” she asked as he brought the ice pack up to his mouth again. 

He shrugged, that morose look back on his face..

“What would make you feel better?” she tried again. 

When he shrugged again, she figured she needed to take matters into her own hands. “Do you want to cuddle? I’ll play with your hair.”

Relief crashed through him like a wave. He didn’t have enough energy to make decisions. He was tired - so, so tired - and now he had this stupid busted lip because Hagel couldn’t keep control of his stick. Even though he knew it probably wasn’t intentional, he still wanted to blame him. It was just the perfectly imperfect set of circumstances. Wrong place, wrong time, hit with just the right portion of the stick to do maximum damage. At least they’d gotten the 4 minute power play. 

“Come on,” Sarah said quietly, taking his free hand, “do you want to go to the couch, or bed?” 

“Bed.” 

She led him up the stairs, and after asking if he wanted to change, pulled out pajamas for them. Once they settled into the sheets and she turned on a baking show for them to watch, he rested his ear on her chest, calmed instantly by the steady, familiar beat of her heart. 

Her fingers found their way into his hair, and his eyes fluttered closed.  It was still terrible, this busted lip, but at least she was here, and still loved him enough to hold him and play with his hair. 

Several days later, as they were snuggled up on the lucky couch reading, he snuffed out a frustrated noise as he tried to get more comfortable.

“What’s up?” she asked as her fingers stilled in their journey down his back. 

“Just hurts,” he mumbled, adjusting again so his head was fully in her lap, and he could look up into her face. 

Glancing down at him, Sarah felt an ache swell in her chest. Not only was he in pain, his perfect, lovely mouth was marred with stitches and swelling. He was still handsome, of course — sort of roguish looking now — but it would take some getting used to. She wondered how badly it would scar. 

“And my lips are dry.” 

They looked dry. He’d been licking them, absentmindedly fiddling the stitches with his tongue.

“Here,” she adjusted slightly.

He huffed, not wanting to move. 

“I’m just going to get you something,” she said, “I’ll be right back.”

Reluctantly, he sat up and she stood. 

She was holding a white tube when she came back a few minutes later. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. 

“Aquaphor?” he read. 

“It’s basically fancy vaseline, but it’s really nice at keeping moisture in. I use it on my lips at night in the winter.”

That was good enough for him. 

“Will you do it?” He felt a little silly requesting it of her, but he knew from experience how much lighter her touch could be compared to his own. And quite frankly, he just wanted her to touch him. She’d been incredibly reluctant to kiss him since it happened, and though he was glad she wasn’t running headlong into anything, he wanted to feel her. He finally had time at home and he couldn’t even kiss her because of this fucking lip. It wasn’t even that they spent all their time kissing. They both had busy lives and things they needed to get done, but the fact that he couldn't do it only made the desire stronger.

He should send Hagel a bunch of hyper-realistic fake donuts, or some shit like that — just so he could experience the disappointment of having something delicious dangled in front of him, only to find he couldn’t actually eat it. 

Feeling her touch him wouldn’t be the same, but at least it was something. 

“Sure.” Sarah took the tube back. As she settled next to him, the little lights from the Christmas tree reflected in her eyes making them look starry and magical.

The lid clicked open with a quiet snick. He watched her squeeze some of the thick ointment onto the pad of her index finger. 

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you?” 

When she looked back into his face, she found Quinn watching her intensely. That intensity never failed to awake something within her. She pushed aside the desire that growled to life in her belly and heat that sparked between her legs.

He nodded.

“Ready?” she asked, as she reached out to rest her pinky on the side of his chin for grounding. 

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to do the bottom or the top first?” 

Eyes darting to hers, he asked, “what?” 

She gave him a mischievous little smile, but her tone was serious. “Should I start with the top lip to get it over with, or ease into it?” 

Disappointment and relief swept through him in equal measure. “Get it over with.” It was always best to get the hard part done first. 

Even though she tried to keep her touch as gentle as possible when she spread the salve onto his lip, he still flinched. 

“It’s okay,” he assured, reaching up to keep her from pulling her hand away, “just a reflex.” 

He intentionally bit back a wince as he lisped over the words, worried she would think it was a response to something she was doing. Trying to figure out how to talk when half of his lip was unnaturally stiff was no cake walk. He hated the way it changed his speech. 

She started again, and he held himself still. 

Watching her do this, let alone feeling it, soothed him and also awoke something primal in Quinn. Letting his eyes wander down to her mouth, he couldn’t stop thinking about the pleasured noises he could pull from it when he went down on her. Another thing he likely wouldn’t be able to do until the damn thing had healed more. 

He wished his mind would stop conjuring up images of everything he wanted to do, but couldn’t because of this stupid injury. 

“Better?” she asked, pulling her hand away. 

He nodded. “Still want to kiss you,” he mumbled. 

“I know, Quinny. I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, either.” 

A frustrated noise huffed out of his nose. “You’re not helping.” 

She smiled, “maybe we can try…” Leaning in, she pressed a gentle kiss to his bottom lip, doing her best to avoid causing any pain. 

He still let out a hissed kind of whine.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, pulling back abruptly. 

“It’s just tender,” he sighed, a dark edge of defeat in his voice. “This fucking sucks. I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“I know the feeling,” she said, eyes straying down to the dark stitches again. 

Quinn took a measure of comfort in the fact that she, at least, was feeling the same longing he was as he lay down again, settling his head back into her lap. 

Her fingers ran into his hair again and he sighed. At least there was this. 

Part 2

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[choerrysjubiles]

Treating My Baby

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

warning: smut! dom!reader, mentions of reader being feminine and small, protected and unprotected sex, <- creampie, playing with HIS tits, cum eating, i talk a bit abt spit, couch sex lets go!!!! also brief mentions of food once (not sexual)

wc: 2.7k

a/n: I am very normal about sungchan :}

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Sungchan was undeniably masculine. He was terribly tall, muscular, and charismatic like no one else. He was strong and enjoyed being manly; he worked out and cared for both his fitness and physique.

He was playful and rather dominant around anyone: taking the lead wherever he went, play fighting with people, pretending he's losing some strength match before easily overpowering them.

It just made sense that such a masculine man got with a feminine woman. Sungchan was both wider and taller than you, he easily picked you up, you two were the perfect couple for the title of "Heteronormativity."

Sungchan's friends friends rarely pried into his sexual life with you, they were so sure he's the dominant one and you were the submissive one. Even if it wasn't true, it's so easy for Sungchan to overpower his friends, let alone his girlfriend. Why wouldn't he be the top?

Every now and then, they'd get a detail or two from Sungchan, nothing big, either "Last night was a little crazy," or "She had a rough day earlier so I'm more sore."

Spend even a bit of time with you two, anyone could see how textbook straight you looked.

And you thrived on that.

There was a thrill in knowing how they viewed your relationship. Sure you're shorter and weaker, doesn't mean you couldn't overtake Sungchan in bed. When he's hot and needy, sweating as he's rutting his hips into your thigh as you're sucking hickeys along his pecs. He became so malleable and obedient. Perfectly melting beneath your figure as you teased him.

There was a relief in knowing the silence agreement of keeping these moments to yourselves. Not everything had to be open, not even to close friends. Knowing that Sungchan can be his strong, dominant self among his boys and come home to get absolutely fucked by you made your confidence grow. You felt pride, even.

It wasn't always like this. Sungchan was the dominant one in your relationship, hell, he still is. You were just more reserved with it. Sungchan is bold and open about himself, while you were calm and collected. You paired well by being so different.

You can still remember how your dynamic changed.

Sungchan came home from work, exhausted but needy, while you were pent up from a coworker getting on your ass all day.

Laying in your usual missionary position, you had to admit you were enjoying the feeling of dick splitting you open. Sungchan always had a faster, stronger thrust when fucking you but it became tiring quickly.

Adjusting around, he offered spooning to continue.

"Don't worry, let me help you." You offered.

Sungchan rubbed your hip, "I don't want you to work too hard, you had a bad day."

Sighing in frustration, you climbed on top of Sungchan and began grinding your wet core along his length. His hands gripped your hips tighter, he let out a loud gasp of him suck in air.

Aligning his dick to your core, "I did have a bad day so let me do this."

Your voice was harsh. Far harsher than you expected but that bitch of a coworker kept irritating you. All day she was nagging you for this or that or something not done right. You needed to let out some form of frustration.

Sungchan began falling apart as you bounced on him. He felt even larger in this position, perfectly filling you up to your brim. Sungchan gripped onto you as he let moans roll out of him. Your pussy felt so much tighter, dragging along his length in a fast, harsh rhythm. His head never stayed in one spot, pushing against the pillow before snapping up to see you pussy squelch around him, moving his head to the side before looking up at you.

His cheeks were flushed, eyebrows knit together as Sungchan felt himself overwhelmed with pleasure. You didn't even notice, too determined to get yourself off. Watching Sungchan sprawl around below as he was coming undone.

"Fuck, fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum."

You sped up, bouncing harder on his dick, sighs of relief slipping out of you as you continued chasing your high. Your left hand circling your clit as Sungchan began to cum in the condom.

"Ahhh." Sungchan let a high strung moaned out, "Wait, fuck."

He wasn't sure if you heard him or if you just didn't care, continuing to fuck yourself on him as Sungchan scrambled on the sheets as you finally felt yourself get close.

"Fuck, baby, you gotta slow down."

"Fuck off." You replied, rubbing your clit faster.

Giving one last bounce you felt yourself cum, pussy clenching so tight around Sungchan he felt himself cum again. Face tense as his head was thrown back, lips forming a small "o." His back arched a little as his hands began palming at your body. Your hips, stomach, he even grabbed at your breast before reaching for your shoulders.

Sliding off of Sungchan, you helped remove his condom.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"You were so fucking hot." Sungchan gasped out.

He was weak, fully collapsed onto the bed as he looked up at you. Glazed eyes and flushed cheeks, he wasn't sure if there was a way to be even more in love with you, right now. You felt dumbfounded.

"Fuck, we have to do that more." His arm pushed you closer, capturing your lips.

That was a really good milestone in your relationship. Finally being comfortable to play with whatever dynamic you made, or whatever dynamic that was forced onto your relationship.

Lounging at home, you finally had some days off from work. Relaxing on your couch, you happily declined the calls coming from your coworkers as they were probably asking how to do this or that. Reclining onto the cushions, you scrolled through your phone. Saving that photo, watching that video, adding things to wishlists and remember-whatever-this-is notes.

Hearing the front door open, you welcomed Sungchan home. Helping him come in and relax as he fell into the couch. You kissed his cheek as you asked how his day was.

"It was okay, a little stressful, but you know how it is."

"Can I make it better? I can cook dinner tonight, or give you a massage."

Kissing the top of your head, "Don't worry, babe."

You carried on your usual routine, relaxing as you two decompress before dinner. You cooked as Sungchan changed out of his work clothes, trading his stuffy suits for more comfortable sweats and a t-shirt. You two sat and ate dinner, talking before relaxing back in the living room.

Putting some movie on, Sungchan was touchier than usual. His hand rubbed your arm or played with your hair as he watched the tv screen. He slowly moved closer to you, kissing your head or temple before moving down to your cheeks and kissing your lips.

Reciprocating, you kissed him back, pulling him a little closer. You felt him crawl on top as he began breathing heavier.

"Would you like it if I took care of you?" You asked, feeling your head sink into the cushion.

"You do so much work for me, already." He said, kissing your neck.

"But I love treating my baby." You sighed as he licked and drug his teeth along the skin. "Come here, let me help my baby." You pushed him back upwards, climbing into his lap.

Your hands cupped his face as you continued kissing him, his plush lips felt amazing melding into yours. His hands moved everywhere, your waist, ass, shoulders, there wasn't a spot he held onto for more than five seconds.

You kissed down across his cheek to his jaw and began nipping on his neck. Your hands moved to his waist, inching his shirt upwards as he leaned against the pillows, lost in the sensations you were giving him.

Pulling his shirt off, you kissed down his broad chest, licking and leaving wet kisses along his pale skin. Sat in his lap, you teasingly kissed around his pecs, inching closer and closer to his nipples. Giving an occasional nip along the sides of his muscles.

"Don't tease me."

You chuckles before licking across his nipple, wrapping your lips around the bud you drug your teeth along the tip before lightly sucking on it.

"Fuck." He groaned, hips grinding against yours as hand moved to cradle your head, holding you in place.

Your free hand played with his other nipple as you licked and prodded at him, switching sides, Sungchan's breath grew ragged as he felt the air cool his hot skin.

Your hands massaged his pecs as you continuously licked and sucked onto him. Tongue flicking across his hardened buds before tweaking them with your fingertips. His hips continued grinding themselves upwards into your pelvis, Sungchan's breathing continued growing rougher as he felt himself fall back onto the pillows.

Beginning to kiss down his ribs and abs, you saw him staring down at you, watching and anticipating every action. Crawling down to the floor, you hooked your arms around his waist before pulling him lower on the couch, resulting is a high gasp from Sungchan. Your hands pulled his waistband lower as you kissed both of his hip bones. Slowly dragging his sweatpants off, you massaged the top of his bulge.

"Can you suck me off?"

Looking up at him, "Is that what you want?"

"Yes, please."

You pulled down his boxers. Dick springing upwards, slapping his stomach as you grabbed it, thumb rubbing his tip before stroking it. Leaning forward, you lightly tapped his tip on your tongue, eyes glued to his flushed face as you licked across the tip before leaning back and continuing to stroke him.

"Mmmm, don't tease me."

You chuckled before leaning back in and kissing his tip.

"Baby." He whined.

Opening your mouth, you wrapped your lips around him and went as low as you could down his length. Reaching the back of your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks before bobbing up and down.

Sungchan moaned, grabbing your hair to make a messy ponytail with his hands. Getting to his tip, you let saliva drip drown his dick as your hand massaged his swollen cock. Tongue prodding along his slit, your hands squeezed around his base.

"Fuck, you're so good."

You continued bobbing up and down, moaning around Sungchan as you soaked up every moan and whimper falling from his lips. Your hand was squeezing and twisting along his base, your free hand moved from his thigh inwards to massage along his balls.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna cum s-so hard."

Moving up to his tip, both of your hands stimulated Sungchan as his hips bucked upwards, painting your mouth in his cum. You swallowed his cum as you continued pumping as much cum out of him.

Sungchan slumped into the couch, chest breathing deep, ragged breaths. You wiped your mouth, cleaning up the cum that dripped down your chin. Sungchan was in a daze, staring up at the ceiling as he was calming himself down.

"Can I eat you out."

You climbed up into his lap, "My baby wants to treat me," you smiled.

"I want you to sit on my face."

You kissed him, moving him down onto the seats. You lifted your shirt, pulling it over your head as his hands laid on your waist. Your hands moved below his, pulling your shorts off as you climbed higher up his body.

His fingers went straight to your panties, massaging that wet spot on your core as Sungchan pulled you closer to smell you. As your thighs reached his head, he began tugging your panties down, gripping onto them before ripping the fabric in two.

Pulling your hip down onto his mouth, he immediately began licking up your slit. Feeling your thick slick coat his tongue as he lapped at you.

"Ahh, you're so sweet, baby." He moaned.

Your hips started rocking along his face, nose bumping your clit as you were sighing and moaning in relief.

"Fuck, you're so desperate for me, baby. God you love this." You sighed, grabbing onto your breast as Sungchan sucked on your clit.

Below you, Sungchan was on cloud 9, "I love eating you out so bad."

Your hand tweaked and massaged your breast as Sungchan wrapped his lips around your cli, sucking and flicking at it. His hands wrapped around your hips, rocking you along his face. Lacing your fingers in his hair, you continued moaning, eyes shut, jaw slack as you felt your orgasm creep up.

Sungchan's hand crept to the side to circle your clit as he lapped at your folds. Feeling your hips rock faster, Sungchan sped up as he heard you gasp, muscles tensing before you relaxed into a drawn out "oh."

He drank up the sweet cum dripping out of you as he kissed your folds, waiting for you to calm down and change positions. Feeling yourself come back to reality, you moved forward and off of Sungchan, your face glowing as your felt your knees slip from the built up sweat.

Sitting upwards, Sungchan moved in to kiss your lips. Hands grasping your cheeks as he pulled you into his lap. You kissed and licked up the excess cum surrounding Sungchan's mouth before licking across his lips and tongue. Sungchan leaned against the pillows as you began grinding along his hardening dick. Your cum wetting his length as you felt yourself grow needy.

"Can I ride you." Your voice was hoarse as you whispered on Sungchan's lips.

"Please."

Sungchan held onto your hips as you swung your leg across his lap. Your hand moved down to align his dick to your core before sinking down. You lean forward, face leaning against Sungchan's chest as you slowly began bouncing. Feeling him stretch you out after cumming was your favorite, no matter how tight you could clench or feel swollen inside, he always found a way to stretch you back out.

Your lips began kissing and sucking onto Sungchan's pec as you began panting at the pleasure pulsing shockwaves through your pussy.

Petting the top of your head, "You're so good to me."

You grabbed his cheeks to pull him down, kissing his lips.

"Your dick is fucking insane."

Your breasts rubbed against his, nipples dragging across his skin as you became addicted to the sensation. Sungchan moved his hand down to grab at some of the cum building between the two of you, bringing his fingers up to your breasts as he rubbed and massaged them. You arched your back, breasts pushing closer to his hands as he spit onto one of your nipples, using more liquids to rub and tweak them.

"Sungchan." You whined.

"You're feeling good?"

"So good." Your eyes closed shut, head leaning into the crook of his neck, as you felt your walls clench even more.

"Ah, mmm."

You moved your hand down to rub your clit as you felt yourself choke on your orgasm. A few rubs in you fell onto Sungchan's dick, squeezing him tightly, cumming around his length.

"Fuck."

Sungchan felt his hips thrust upwards as he chased his high. Feeling himself empty into your pussy, he pulled you forward. A few rogue thrusts upwards as Sungchan relaxed back into the couch.

Catching his breath, Sungchan leaned you forward to kiss you.

"I didn't mean to cum in you."

"It's okay." You replied, still breathless.

"But you hate the way it feels." He laughed.

"Is this your way of asking to suck it out of me." You ask, your lips curling into a tired smirk.

Sungchan's hips bucked upwards, eyes feeling heavy as he looked at you.

"When you say it like that." He smiled, leaning in to kiss your jaw.

You chuckled, getting off of him as you got into your knees as Sungchan slipped down the couch. He was leaning into your pelvis as you lifted your leg onto the cushion. Sungchan latched onto your core, sucking up the cream pie he shot into your pussy. Licking and slurping up the mess.

Moaning, Sungchan began tonguing at your pussy. Hands moving to spread your folds open to lick and drink as much of the cum as he could. Slurping up as much as he could, Sungchan gave some last broad licks to clean you up.

Moving off of his face, you fell back into his lap.

"Thank you." You said, leaning up to kiss his forehead.

"Thank you, baby." Sungchan replied, a goofy smile adorning his face.

[thelarriefics]

HOLIDAY FIC REC, PART V: Below you’ll find 25 fics that have to do with the holiday season.

📖 Larry Xmas Countdown 2024 by @28goldens (133k)

Different fic prompts posted across 25 days

📖 Twinkling Lights, Fated Nights by @darling-28 (87k)

A story about healing, love and finding home in each other.

📖 Home For The Holiday by @larrysmomfics (86k)

Harry needs to run away. In an attempt to get out of his own routine and his own life for a while and get over his extremely toxic ex, he decides on an emotionally fueled whim to do a house swap with someone in LA who's itching to get out of his own routine and get away from his best friend and business partner for a bit. In a quirky turn of events the best friend Liam was so desperate to get away from happens to be the most lovely, kind, and beautiful man Harry's ever met. What ensues is a self healing journey with the help of a found family, a wonderful man who becomes his home, and above all love. A "The Holiday" inspired AU where Harry meets Louis after agreeing to swap houses with a stranger on the internet for three weeks over the holidays.

📖 Secrets in Winter by @softfonds (82k)

If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

📖 2024 Advent Calendar by @the-larry-way (40k)

25 independent one-shots with wintery/Christmas themes centering Larry Stylinson

📖 Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 (35k)

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.

📖 You Should Be Here With Me by @lululawrence (34k)

The festive period is a traditionally hectic one in the world of Premier League football, and this year is no different. A lot is riding on how Manchester United is able to come through the fixtures in the coming weeks. Louis and his teammates know all too well the pressure that is on their shoulders. They need to prove, not just to fans of the club but the entire league, that they still have what it takes to be a team worthy of fighting for the top of the table. Throw in the fact that Louis is all too aware that he's not getting any younger in a profession that demands your peak physical fitness year round and the incredibly fit Harry Styles, who is part of the club's social media team, and this year's festive period might just be the most important one yet.

📖 I Guess I'll Surrender by @bravetemptation (29k)

A lad’s Christmas holiday provides the perfect opportunity for Louis and Harry to prank their friends. They decide to fake date. Feelings kind of get in the way

📖 We Can Roll in the Darkness by @letthemusicmoveyou28 (29k)

Or the one where Louis and his best mate Niall decide to take the plunge and open a pub. The goal is to open Christmas Day, but the building renovations are proving trickier than expected. Insert: a construction company with a questionable name, a certain curly haired builder who catches Louis’ attention, and a little festive chaos along the way.

📖 Your Reign is Free (to give along to Santa) by @londonfoginacup (28k)

It’s Christmas Eve. It’s a totally normal Christmas Eve. Harry and Louis have some friends coming by, and some totally normal birthday and Christmas plans. It’s a totally typical totally normal Christmas Eve. A fic that takes place over 24 (+1) hours where surely everything will go totally to plan. Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.

📖 One for the Books by @neondiamond (25k)

Or the one where there’s a bookshop, a cat, OT5 friendship, a budding romance, and all the festive vibes.

📖 Lonely Cards Club by @hellolovers13 (25k)

Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard. It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day. 💌 An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.

📖 light me up, put me on top by @larrydoinglaundry (24k)

Harry takes Louis back to Northern Europe to experience his first Nordic Christmas in their beloved cabin, surrounded by nothing but peace and snow. So much snow. Short "spin-off" to 'Love is a word, you gave it a name' universe. Takes place after the second part of the main story, but before the final epilogue.

📖 Secrets, Santa? by @indiaalphawhiskey (19k)

Right, okay, so Harry had confessed his deepest, darkest, dirtiest secrets to a stranger who turned out to be his boss. No big deal. This was probably just the beginning of Harry’s own hilariously heartwarming, wildly romantic Hallmark Christmas movie, come to life, right? …Right? -- very loosely inspired by Sophie Kinsella's Can You Keep A Secret?

📖 You Are The Fever (What A Lovely Way To Burn!) by @yoursolosong (18k)

Harry is an alpha who realizes he’s also into alphas and wants to be submissive. He battles between his instincts and what he wants.

📖 Christmas At Cedar Farm by @babyhoneyheslt (17k)

Inheriting a derelict farm with no knowledge on how to look after the land and a farmhouse in dire need of renovations, Harry’s stuck with two options; sell it, or do it up for himself. With the help of his friends and the cute farmer next door, Harry sees the potential and creates a Winter Wonderland at Cedar Farm.

📖 Santa, Baby by @hazzabeeforlou (16k)

Nothing in Harry’s life has gone to plan. From giving up his art dreams in favor of a stable 9-5, to singleness, to a bought with cancer that left him infertile, Harry finds himself wishing for a Christmas miracle. When one seemingly occurs, Harry meets the sperm donor of his dreams and begin to imagine the impossible. But not everything with Louis is as it seems, and soon an elusive art agent is adding to the chaos of Harry’s very unexpected holiday season. Set against the backdrop of New York City, this hallmark-style rom com is filled with a bit of drama, a drop of angst, and a touch of Christmas magic.

📖 knowing you're in love with me is the greatest gift of all by @dreamersdivin-headfirst (6k)

Harry just wants to fall back to sleep in his husband’s arms, wanting to treasure the quietness of Christmas morning before their kids wake up and realize what day it is. That dream is short lived when there’s a small shriek of joy from downstairs.

📖 I'll Show You How Good It Could Be by @lovingstheantidote (6k)

Harry makes Santa a drink and Louis gets naughty.

📖 me without you is like a present without a bow by @wecantalktomorrow (5k)

The reassurance from Louis had Harry grinning and running his hands down his husband’s sides. “I think you’re going to like it,” he murmured confidently, starting to play with the hem of his own jumper when he sat back against his husband’s bent knees. “Sorry you don’t get to unwrap it, though. Knew you’d be more reluctant to be tied up if you saw it first.”

📖 Mistletoe and Eggsnogging by @parmahamlarrie (5k)

Harry has a plan. It involves mistletoe, a night out at a club, and the hope that perhaps he might pull a nice boy tonight. The night does not go in any way like he had planned, but it all works out in the end.

📖 A Man After Midnight by @galacticlarry (4k)

Harry thought kissing Louis on New Year’s Eve would be a one-time thing, but they keep running into each other and it becomes a tradition. What happens when feelings start getting involved? Or the five times Harry kisses Louis on New Year’s Eve and the one time he kisses his boyfriend.

📖 Santa Baby (one little thing I really need) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (3k)

When Louis himself had first heard those words - all the nurses at the A&E have a secret line to Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve-, not nearly long enough ago to be considered a child himself, but long enough that he hadn't really felt like an adult all the time, he’d laughed them off. Thought they were sweet, of course, but just a line, something said to appease the kids who ended up having to stay overnight. Something to explain the presents that parents brought to the hospital on Christmas morning, or that were waiting for them at home, if they were lucky not to have to stay any longer. Something that would allow a little bit of Christmas spirit in the sometimes sterile rooms of the hospital. But that was before he’d met him.

📖 Have yourself a larry little christmas by @enchantedlandcoffee (2k)

A plan to exchange presents lead to more than both Harry and Louis bargained for.

📖 Too Many Beds - A Christmas Tale by @silverstuff50 (2k)

Louis was fine to share a room with any of the lads on their Christmas weekend away. Anyone, except the one lad he hates. He definitely hates him. He's annoying and big and gorgeous and, yeah, annoying.

[honeyncherry]

Through the Looking Glass - Two

Rafe Cameron x Reader

content: tension, bad parenting?

word count: 6.3k

previous

The morning time used to be your sanctuary. In the quiet hours before the world woke up, you’d find peace. Those fleeting moments where it felt like the universe had hit pause just for you.

As a child, mornings were your reprieve, a small window where no one demanded anything of you. No clipped commands and no pressure. Just you, the soft light filtering through your bedroom window, and the occasional birdcall drifting in from the trees outside. It was your time to breathe. 

Sometimes you’d sit cross-legged on the carpet, a book balanced on your knees, imagining yourself in stories that didn’t involve expectations and schedules.

Other times, you’d sit by the window tracing patterns in the condensation with your finger, imagining what life could be if it were yours to choose. The stillness made it easier to dream, to let yourself believe, even if only for a little while, that there was more to life than what had been laid out for you.

That quiet was everything, a momentary break from a life that wasn’t truly yours.

But mornings weren’t like that anymore. The peace had been replaced by a steady thrum of tension that refused to let go. You couldn’t escape it, not in this world where every move felt calculated, every interaction weighed. Even on a campus as vibrant as this one, sunlight spilling across the red brick paths, students walking in clusters as laughter rang out, the tension remained. All coiled beneath the surface.

Today was no different, though the stakes felt higher. As you walked with Brooke, Maddie, and Sabrina toward campus, their chatter filled the space around you, light and carefree. They swapped stories about professors, exaggerated tales of late-night cramming sessions, and Maddie’s latest tirade of a group project.

“Seriously, who decides to leave the entire presentation to me?” Maddie was saying, her tone dripping with incredulity. “I’m not a babysitter.”

Brooke laughed, “that’s why I never volunteer for group work. Let them pick the slackers. I’ll take a solo essay any day.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Sabrina chimed in, nudging Brooke playfully. “Besides, you’re better at flirting your way out of deadlines.”

“I prefer to call it persuasion,” Brooke said, grinning.

Their banter washed over you like waves, grounding you in the moment. It was a relief, in a way, to let them take the spotlight. Their vibrant personalities filled in any gaps where you might’ve had to speak. But your thoughts were elsewhere, trailing ahead toward the building looming in the distance.

Personal Relations 201.

This wasn’t just another class. It was the class. The agency had assigned it with purpose, placing it carefully into your schedule. Not because of its content, though it was useful enough, but because of who sat in that very lecture hall every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at precisely 10:15am.

Rafe Cameron. 

“You’re so quiet this morning,” Brooke’s voice cut through your thoughts, light and teasing. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who actually gets nervous for class.”

You blinked, her words pulling you back. “Just thinking about everything I need to get done. You know how it is.” You forced a small laugh, shaking your head. 

Brooke grinned. “Oh, trust me, I don’t. That’s why I don’t think about anything until five minutes before it’s due.”

Sabrina laughed, nudging her shoulder. “And yet, somehow, you still manage to pass.”

“Talent,” Brooke said with mock arrogance. “Pure, unteachable talent.”

You laughed softly, grateful for the distraction. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“But, you’ll be fine,” Brooke circled back, giving you a reassuring pat on the arm. “Just sit in the back if it gets boring. That’s what I do.”

“Or sit near the hot guys,” Sabrina added with a smirk. “That’s what I do.”

Maddie rolled her eyes. “Try sitting where you can actually see the board. That’s what normal people do.”

“Pass,” Brooke said with a wave of her hand before turning to you. “What’s your strategy?”

“Probably somewhere in the middle,” you replied lightly. “Close enough to look like I care, far enough to keep my sanity.” You flashed a grin as if you already had this system mastered to the T.

“Smart,” Sabrina said, flashing you a grin. “See? She’s already got this figured out.”

You gave a small, easy smile as you all stopped in front of Bynum Hall. “This is me. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Good luck!” Brooke called after you as they moved on, their laughter fading into the distance.

The building stood ahead of you, its tall glass doors reflecting the morning light. You adjusted the strap of your bag, your fingers brushing the cool canvas as you stepped inside. The air conditioning hit you immediately, a sharp contrast to the warmth outside. The hallways were already bustling with students, some lingering in small groups, others disappearing into lecture halls.

You kept your steps measured as you entered the room, its rows of seats sprawling out in neat, orderly lines. The space hummed with quiet conversations, a handful of students already seated, their notebooks open and pens poised. You chose a spot near the middle, strategic, of course. It was the sweet spot — the balance you always aimed for.

Unpacking your things and sitting down, you let your gaze sweep the room with casual detachment. The overachievers clustered at the front, their attention already focused on the professor’s notes on the screen. The socialites and athletes occupied the back rows, leaning into each other as they whispered and laughed. It was a dynamic you’d seen, yet never stepped foot in before, one that always fell into place like clockwork no matter the setting.

The door opened, and you didn’t need to look to know it was him. The energy in the room shifted, a subtle ripple of awareness that followed him wherever he went. Rafe Cameron walked in with a kind of confidence that felt almost performative, like he knew the impact he had on a space and enjoyed wielding it.

You kept your gaze on your notebook, feigning interest in the syllabus you’d already memorized. The footsteps grew louder, closer, until they stopped just a few feet away. He settled into the row you were in, leaving a seat between you. The distance was purposeful, a space that felt charged even in its quietness.

You barely glanced up, your fingers tapping lightly against your notebook as your eyes skimmed the same lines over and over again. But when his voice broke through the hum of the room, low and casual, it was impossible to ignore.

“Morning.”

You glanced at him, letting a small smile play on your lips. “Morning.”

He leaned back in his chair, his pen spinning lazily between his fingers. For a moment, it seemed like the exchange would end there. But then he turned slightly, his eyes catching yours. “Didn’t think you’d be in this class.”

You tilted your head, feigning mild curiosity. “Why’s that?”

He smirked, tapping his pen once against the desk. “Just didn’t peg you for the communications type. You seem more…” He let the silence linger, his eyes scanning you briefly before finishing, “…reserved.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting his words hang in the air before responding. “Maybe you just haven’t seen enough to know.”

His smirk deepened, like he wasn’t sure if you were challenging him or playing along. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back again. “I’m usually pretty good at reading people, though.”

The professor’s voice cut through the room then, calling for attention as the lecture began. Turning forward, your pen remained over the page though you were acutely aware of the weight of Rafe’s gaze lingering on you for just a second longer.

As the lecture progressed, you fell into the rhythm of note-taking, your handwriting neat and orderly. But every so often, you felt the pull of his presence, the subtle shifts in his posture, the quiet scratch of his own pen on paper.

It was when the professor began discussing the importance of first impressions, that Rafe leaned forward ever so slightly, scribbling something in his notebook. Then, without looking up, he asked, “So, what was your first impression of me?”

The question caught you off guard, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Do you want the honest answer or the polite one?”

He finally turned to look at you, his smirk widening. “Always honest.”

“Well,” you said, keeping your tone light, “you seemed... confident. Maybe a little too confident.”

His laugh was low, quiet enough that it didn’t carry far. “Figures. What about now?”

You leaned back slightly, tilting your head as though appraising him. “Still confident,” you said after a beat, “but maybe not as intimidating as you think.” You had to force down the grin that was threatening to show.

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face. “Not intimidating, huh? Most people wouldn’t say that.”

“Maybe they don’t know you well enough,” you countered, letting your voice dip slightly in mock seriousness.

He grinned at that, tapping his pen against the desk again. “Fair. And I’m guessing you’re one of those people who don’t get nervous, huh?”

You shrugged, forcing a small laugh. “Not much phases me. But maybe I’m just good at hiding it.”

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer before he turned back to the lecture, a quiet “touché” falling from his lips.

The rest of the class passed in a blur of half-heard lecture points and subtle glances exchanged. You could tell he was intrigued, though whether it was because of what you said or how you said it was harder to pin down.

As the professor dismissed the class, students began packing up their things, their voices rising as conversations resumed. Rafe stayed in his seat, taking his time as though he had nowhere to be. You followed suit, slipping your notebook and laptop into your bag with measured movements.

“See you next time,” he said casually, his voice low enough that it felt like it was meant just for you.

“Maybe,” you replied, your tone breezy as you stood.

You walked out without looking back, though you could feel his eyes on you. Let him think he had the upper hand. Let him think you were quiet, nervous, unsure. Every word, every glance, every moment was intentional, and he just didn’t realize it.

You stepped out into the bright sunlight, blinking against its intensity as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. Your mind replayed snippets of the conversation with Rafe — his subtle smirk, the way his eyes lingered just a second too long. The memory hovered like a cloud, equal parts intriguing and irritating. You shook it off. Focus. You needed to focus.

Your feet carried you almost automatically toward the coffee shop Brooke had shown you during her whirlwind tour. Over the past weekend, it had quickly become a favorite. Not just for its cozy atmosphere and strong espresso, but for the sense of anonymity it offered. Everyone here seemed absorbed in their own world, sipping lattes, scrolling through their phones, or flipping through notes. Sitting alone didn’t feel out of place.

The familiar bell above the door jingled as you pushed it open, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You stepped into the line, your eyes scanning the menu even though you already knew what you’d order.

“Fancy seeing you here,” a voice said, pulling your attention.

You turned to see Sabrina standing a few feet away, her signature grin firmly in place. Beside her, Liam held a large iced coffee in one hand and what looked like a half-eaten bagel in the other.

“Hey,” you greeted, smiling lightly. “Small world?”

“More like predictable habits,” Sabrina teased, stepping closer. “This is our go-to post-class caffeine fix. Liam can’t survive without his sugar rush.”

Liam raised his coffee towards you. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

You laughed softly, the interaction easing some of the tension still lingering from class. “Good to know Brooke showed me the right place.”

As you moved up in line and placed your order, Sabrina leaned casually against the counter. “We’re heading to the quad after this. It’s kind of our regrouping spot. You should come.”

“Regrouping spot?” you echoed, tilting your head.

“Translation: Brooke and Maddie will be there, and there’s going to be gossip,” Liam said with a smirk. “The quad’s like our version of the water cooler.”

Sabrina nudged him with her elbow as you laughed at his joke. “Ignore him. It’s chill. A good place to just hang out and unwind.”

You hesitated, but the decision was already made for you. If the group was heading there, it was the logical next step. “Alright. Count me in.”

“Perfect,” Sabrina said, grabbing her drink as it was called. Yours followed shortly after. “Let’s go before Brooke starts texting us every five minutes asking where we are.”

The three of you left the coffee shop together, the sun casting long shadows across the path as you made your way toward the quad. Liam walked slightly ahead, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his drink as he whistled a tune you couldn’t quite place. Sabrina fell into step beside you, her drink in hand.

“So,” Sabrina began, her tone casual but laced with curiosity, “what’d you think of PR class? Worth the hype?”

You shrugged, keeping your response neutral. “It’s… interesting.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Liam called back, smirking over his shoulder. “Bet Rafe made it more ‘interesting,’ though.”

You felt your cheeks warm slightly but managed to keep your expression calm. “How’d you know he was there?”

Sabrina rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please. All the guys have each other's schedules memorized. It's borderline obsessive.”

Your eyebrows lifted as Liam laughed but didn’t deny it. “Rafe was… chatty.”

Sabrina laughed. “That’s one word for it. He can’t help himself sometimes.”

As you approached the quad, the sound of laughter and conversation grew louder. Brooke and Maddie were already sprawled on a large blanket under a massive oak tree, Maddie scrolling through her phone while Brooke gestured animatedly, mid-story. A few other students lingered nearby, their own little pockets of chatter blending into the atmosphere.

“There they are,” Liam announced, lifting his coffee as he waved. “The queens of the quad.”

Brooke’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice, her face lighting up as she spotted you. “Finally!” she called out, her voice carrying across the lawn. “We were starting to think you ditched us.”

“Never,” Sabrina replied as the three of you reached the blanket. “We had to fuel up first.”

Brooke turned her attention to you, patting the spot beside her. “Come sit. We’re just planning tonight.”

“Tonight?” you asked, lowering yourself onto the blanket.

“The party at Beta,” Maddie said without looking up from her phone. “You’re coming, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indecision. “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot to do.”

Brooke gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like you’d just insulted her. “A lot to do? It’s your first day of classes! That’s practically a crime against fun.”

“It’s Beta’s first big party of the semester,” Sabrina added. “Basically a rite of passage.”

“And by ‘big,’ she means chaotic,” Liam chimed in, plopping onto the grass beside Maddie. “But, you know, in a good way.”

Brooke leaned in closer, her expression morphing into one of exaggerated pleading. “Please tell me you’re coming. It won’t be the same without you.”

You sighed, letting a small smile slip through. “I’ll think about it.”

Brooke’s grin widened triumphantly. “You’ll think about it,” she repeated, her tone teasing. “That’s code for yes.”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the chatter. “I hear we’re talking about a party.”

You turned to see Chase and Rafe approaching. Chase’s grin was wide and easy, the kind that could disarm anyone, while Rafe’s expression held its usual mix of amusement and judgment, his stride unhurried yet commanding. The two moved with the kind of assertiveness that turned heads without trying, their presence drawing the group’s attention almost instantly.

“Always,” Brooke gave a slow shrug, her grin widening mischievously. “And you’re both coming, obviously.”

Chase dropped onto the blanket beside her, his energy infectiously cheerful. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Rafe lingered at the edge of the group for a moment, his gaze scanning the circle before settling briefly on you. Then, he sat down, “what about you?” he asked, his voice low and casual. “You going?”

“Still deciding,” you replied lightly, keeping your tone neutral.

Chase leaned forward. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s coming.”

“Bold assumption,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“Not an assumption,” Chase countered, his grin widening. “A prediction.”

Laughter rippled through the group, the easy banter flowing seamlessly. You let yourself relax slightly, the warmth of the moment grounding you even as you felt Rafe’s presence like white noise beside you. Your gaze flicked to him only once, but his attention had already shifted, his focus split between the conversation and whatever silent thoughts lingered behind his eyes.

As the group continued to talk about the party, you couldn’t ignore the way Rafe’s quiet confidence filled the space, unsettling and fascinating all at once. He didn’t need to dominate the conversation to make his presence known. It was in the way he leaned back, effortlessly commanding the moment, even when he was silent.

“Alright,” Brooke announced, clapping her hands together with finality. “So it’s settled. We’re all going, and we’re going to make it the best night ever.”

“I didn’t agree yet,” you teased, though your tone was playful, a subtle challenge in the words.

Brooke waved her hand dismissively. “Details. You’ll thank me later.”

You laughed, the sound blending into the chatter around you as the group shifted into easier conversations. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the quad in a warm, golden light. It felt almost like one of those carefree moments you’d seen in movies, where the world seemed simpler, lighter. Almost.

For now, you let yourself settle into the moment, even as the undercurrent of your true purpose hummed beneath it all.

Brooke leaned back on her hands, her curls catching the golden light as she tilted her face toward the sun. “This is what college is supposed to be about,” she said with a content sigh. “Good weather, good company, and not a single textbook in sight.”

“Speak for yourself,” Maddie quipped, raising an eyebrow as she gestured to the pile of notes beside her. “Some of us actually care about passing our classes.”

Chase scoffed, leaning forward with an easy grin. “It’s literally the second week of classes. Relax, Hermione. You’ve got time.”

Maddie shot him a pointed look, though her lips twitched as if holding back a smile. “Some of us like to stay ahead. Not everyone can get by on charm and last-minute cramming.”

“Cramming is a skill,” Chase declared, pressing a hand to his chest like she’d wounded him. “It’s an art form, really.”

“Wait, didn’t Brooke say the exact same thing earlier?” Sabrina perked up, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Maddie raised an eyebrow, glancing between Brooke and Chase with a sly smirk. “Wow. Maybe you two really are meant to be.”

Brooke froze for half a second before recovering with a dramatic groan. “Oh my god, Maddie, stop. That is not what I meant.”

Chase smirked, leaning back with a serious expression. “You hear that? She didn’t deny it. Sounds like someone’s got a serious crush.”

Brooke shot him a glare, her cheeks faintly pink. “Don’t flatter yourself. Just because we’ve been talking doesn’t mean I’m part of your fan club.”

“Oh, you’re definitely in the club,” Chase shot back with a wink. “You might even be president.”

Brooke stretched her arms above her head with a dramatic sigh, her voice light but edged with playfulness. “You wish.”

Before anyone could add more, Rafe, who had been silent until now, leaned forward slightly, his tone dry and sharp. “If this is your version of foreplay, it’s painful to watch.”

A ripple of laughter broke through the group, breaking the tension as Brooke turned toward him with an incredulous expression. “Oh, shut up,” she said, her tone exasperated but tinged with amusement.

Chase grinned as he gestured between himself and Brooke. “You know, this is why we’d never work, Brooke. Too much drama, not enough appreciation for my charm.”

Brooke scoffed, swiping her hand through the air like she was brushing him away. “Please. If anything, I’m doing you a favor just by being seen with you.”

“Oh, it’s a mutual favor,” Chase quipped. “Trust me.”

Brooke rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “Speaking of standards…” She emphasized before fiddling with her phone screen, the faint sounds of swiping and tapping filling the air as the others groaned preemptively.

“Here we go,” Liam muttered, shaking his head with mock despair.

“Patience,” Brooke said, holding up a finger as she turned the screen toward the group with a flourish. “Okay… what about this one?”

The phone’s screen displayed Braeden Lowe’s Instagram profile: a parade of gym mirror selfies, flexed biceps, and overly filtered vacation shots. His toothy grin practically screamed “wannabe influencer.”

Rafe groaned dramatically, leaning back on his elbows with an exaggerated wince. “God, Brooke. Even my thirteen-year-old sister wouldn’t give that guy a second glance.”

Brooke’s glare shot toward Rafe as she clutched her phone protectively. “You have no taste. Besides, I’m not asking for you.” She turned her gaze pointedly to you, her grin teetering on the edge of mischief. “What do you think? He’s your type, right?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You’re asking me?”

“Of course!” Brooke’s tone was light but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her intent. “Someone’s gotta find you a date, and clearly, I’m the most qualified.”

The group broke into grins and scattered chuckles, their amusement filling the space between you. Heat crept up your cheeks as you shook your head. “I don’t need a date, Brooke.”

“Oh, come on,” she whined, tilting her head with exaggerated drama. Her curls bounced as she grinned. “What’s the harm in a little fun? Live a little!”

Rafe snorted, his smirk widening as he gestured lazily toward the phone. “If this is Brooke’s idea of fun, I’m concerned for all of us.”

Laughter rippled through the group. You couldn’t suppress your grin, even as Brooke shot Rafe a withering glare. She snatched her phone back, brandishing it like a weapon. “You’re so predictable, Rafe. If you think you can do better, be my guest.”

Rafe relaxed into his spot, his smirk growing as if he’d been waiting for this opening all day. “Please. If I tried, it wouldn’t even be fair.”

“God forbid,” Maddie muttered, rolling her eyes as she stretched her legs out in front of her.

“Please don’t,” you interjected, your tone laced with mock alarm. “The last thing I need is Rafe Cameron picking anyone for me.”

“Why not?” Rafe countered smoothly, angling his head toward you with that maddening smirk. “I’ve got great taste.”

“Great taste in what?” Maddie asked flatly. “Flapjacks and trouble?”

Sabrina and Chase snorted, their laughter mingling as Brooke waved them off impatiently. “Come on. College is for having fun, and fun means romance. Don’t tell me you’re going to be the tragic single friend.”

You shook your head, trying to stop this before it spiraled into something unbearable. “No one needs to help with anything. I don’t need a—”

“Boyfriend?” Rafe cut in, his tone dripping with amusement. His blue eyes locked onto yours, daring you to take the bait.

You froze for a beat, your mind scrambling for a comeback that wouldn’t play directly into his hands. Of course, he’d jump in just to throw you off balance. These past couple of days have been like a game of tug-of-war with him, and the more you tried to steady yourself, the harder he pulled.

You pressed your lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Right,” he said, dragging out the word. “I’m sure.”

You sighed, waving him off with a dismissive shake of your head. “Thanks, Brooke, but I think I’ll survive without your matchmaking services.”

“Single and thriving,” Sabrina chimed in, raising her drink like a toast. “Brooke, not everyone needs a boyfriend to complete their college experience.”

“Fine,” Brooke relented with a dramatic huff, flopping back onto the blanket. “But when you change your mind, don’t come crying to me.”

“If she changes her mind, she can come to me.” Liam grinned from across the circle, wagging his brows in exaggerated hopefulness.

“Dream on, Liam,” Maddie shot back, shoving his shoulder hard enough to make him laugh and nearly spill his own drink.

The group’s banter dissolved into smaller conversations, the air light with their laughter. You let yourself relax slightly, slipping into the rhythm of their chatter. It was easier this way, listening from the edges, laughing when appropriate, and staying out of the spotlight. It kept the focus off you, which was exactly what you wanted.

Except Rafe wasn’t letting that happen.

His gaze lingered, sharp and steady, even as the others’ attention shifted elsewhere. When you glanced his way, his smirk softened into something subtler, his eyes assessing. It was unnerving, the way he seemed to notice too much, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle you hadn’t even known you’d left scattered.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the surrounding noise. “No boyfriend back home?”

The question caught you off guard, your hesitation betraying a flicker of surprise. His smirk deepened at the pause, a glimmer of triumph sparking in his eyes like he’d just gained the upper hand.

Little did he know, that pause wasn’t hesitation; it was calculation. His quick quip had only confirmed one thing: he was playing the game exactly as you wanted him to.

“No,” you said firmly, refusing to let the silence stretch any longer. “No boyfriend.”

“Interesting,” he murmured, his tone casual, though his gaze suggested he was testing the waters, waiting to see if you’d flinch.

But you weren’t about to let him think he’d rattled you.

You looked away, focusing on Brooke instead as she picked up her phone and waved it in Rafe’s direction. “See? You should be thanking me. I’m just trying to help.”

Rafe scoffed, the smirk creeping back onto his face. “You’re not helping anyone with that lineup, Brooke. Try harder.”

Her jaw dropped in mock offense. “Okay, that’s it. You’re banned from giving opinions.”

“Good luck enforcing that,” he shot back with a grin.

The group laughed. Around you, students lounged on blankets, paging through notes or simply soaking in the sun. It was the kind of scene that should have felt idyllic. Carefree. But the weight in your chest wouldn’t let you fully sink into the moment.

Every time Rafe’s gaze landed on you, it felt like the walls were inching closer, pressing in on all sides. He watched too closely, noticed too much.

“Don’t tell me you’re zoning out already,” Brooke teased, nudging your arm. “It’s not even midterms yet.”

Her words snapped you back into focus. You managed a small smile. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime,” Rafe quipped, his smirk curling once again. He sat up slightly, his posture shifting from relaxed to alert. “You sure you’re not plotting something over there?”

You rolled your eyes, forcing a laugh. “Always. Can’t help myself.”

“You’ve got that look,” Chase added, gesturing vaguely toward you. “You know, like you’re solving the mysteries of the universe or something.”

Before you could respond, Rafe tilted his head, studying you more closely. “Seriously, though. You good?”

The shift in his tone threw you. It wasn’t soft, not exactly, but it lacked his usual playful bite. His smirk had faded into something subtler, almost... curious. Like he was genuinely asking.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, nodding to punctuate your words. “Just... tired.”

For a moment, he didn’t reply, his gaze flicking over your face as if weighing your answer. Then, just as easily, his smirk returned. He leaned back on his hands, his posture lazy once more. “Good,” he said simply, his tone dismissive, as though closing the conversation.

Brooke’s phone buzzed from where it lay in the grass, pulling the group’s attention back. She groaned, picking it up and waving it in the air like a flag of defeat. “Okay, someone else can take over. Clearly, my taste isn’t appreciated.”

“Maybe you should let her pick her own boyfriend,” Rafe quipped, tossing you a glance that felt sharper than it should’ve.

The group laughed, the moment dissolving into more teasing and chatter until the sharp trill of a ringing phone cut through the noise. Everyone instinctively glanced at their devices.

“It’s me,” you murmured, a mix of relief and dread flooding you as you pulled your buzzing phone from your pocket. The screen displayed a stark “No Caller ID,” and your stomach sank like a heavy stone. That familiar block of text only ever meant one thing, and you’d been hoping to avoid it, at least for now.

You stood quickly, smoothing your shirt and offering a rushed excuse. “I’ll just be a second,” you said lightly, though you felt the weight of curious eyes as you stepped away.

Pressing the phone to your ear, you forced your voice to remain calm. “Hello?”

His response was immediate, clipped, and impersonal. “How’s everything looking?”

Your eyes closed briefly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. How typical. Not a greeting, not even the pretense of concern. Just straight to business. “Fine,” you replied, keeping your tone as brisk as his. “It’s early, but everything is progressing as expected.”

“Good,” he said, his voice carrying the same detached authority it always did. “You’ll have more updates by the end of the week.”

It wasn’t a request, but you knew better than to push back. “Of course,” you said flatly. “I’m working on it.”

There was a pause on his end, brief but heavy, the kind that made you want to fill the silence just to escape the weight of it. But you didn’t. You knew the routine too well.

“When I say ‘progressing,’” he continued, his tone colder now, “I expect measurable results. Not vague reassurances.”

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your voice steady. “I’m handling it. You’ll get what you need.”

His sigh was barely audible, but you could picture it clearly. Him sitting at his pristine desk, lips pressed in a thin line, calculating as always. Likely already rifling through another case file, another project. “Good,” he said finally. “Because you can’t afford to screw this up. Neither can I.”

There it was. The reminder that you weren’t just representing yourself, you were representing him, his reputation, his legacy. It was always like this, a constant balancing act between proving your competence and falling short of expectations that always seemed impossible to meet.

You leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree, the bark rough under your palm as you steadied yourself. “I know what’s at stake,” you said evenly.

“Do you?” he shot back, his voice slicing through any lingering resolve. “Because if you did, I wouldn’t have to call and check in like this.”

Your stomach twisted, anger and hurt mixing into a cocktail you’d become all too familiar with. He didn’t trust you — not fully, not really. And maybe he never would, no matter how many times you executed flawlessly, no matter how many hoops you jumped through.

“I’ve got it under control,” you said firmly, your fingers tightening around the phone. “You don’t need to babysit me.”

Another pause, longer this time. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head, calculating the risk of letting you take the lead versus micromanaging. When he finally spoke, his tone was sharp and dismissive. “Then prove it.”

The call ended abruptly, the line going dead before you could reply. You lowered the phone slowly, staring at the blank screen as his words echoed in your mind.

He never said goodbye. He never said much of anything, really. Just orders and expectations, always dangling just out of reach like a carrot on a stick. You’d stopped hoping for more years ago.

As you slipped your phone back into your pocket, you let out a slow breath. You couldn’t let this rattle you. But the lump in your throat lingered, a reminder that no matter how far you went, no matter what you achieved, you were still chasing something you weren’t sure you’d ever catch.

When you turned back toward the group, their energy felt like it belonged to another world entirely. The laughter was a stark contrast to the weight still pressing against your chest. You moved toward them, forcing your steps to remain casual, your shoulders to relax, even as the tether of that phone call pulled tighter.

Of course, it had to be Rafe’s gaze that caught yours immediately. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes lingered made it clear he’d noticed the sudden shift in your expression. His sharp, discerning eyes seemed to pick at the seams of the mask you were holding in place.

“What was that about?” Brooke asked, tilting her head with a curious smile. Her voice was light, but her curiosity was genuine.

“Nothing important,” you said quickly, shaking your head as you eased back onto the grass. “Just family checking in. You know how parents are.”

Brooke’s curiosity flickered for a moment, but she didn’t press. Before she could pivot the conversation, Rafe’s voice cut in, laced with curiosity but edged with something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Seemed tense.”

His usual smirk was gone now, replaced by a look that made your skin prickle. It wasn’t soft, Rafe Cameron didn’t do soft, but it carried a weight that left you uneasy. His tone wasn’t quite prying, but it felt like he was looking for the cracks.

Sabrina nudged him with her elbow, her tone light as she chided, “Don’t be nosy.” There was amusement in her voice, but not enough to ease the tension winding tighter in your chest.

The weight in your body increased tenfold, everything suddenly feeling heavier, sharper. You forced a small smile, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder as you stood. “I just remembered I need to drop some things off at the administration office. I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?”

Brooke pouted, her bottom lip sticking out in an exaggerated frown. “But we were just getting to the good part!”

“It’ll have to wait,” you replied lightly, though your voice sounded strained in your own ears.

The others nodded, letting you slip away without too many questions. Brooke’s attention, thankfully, quickly shifted back to the group, and their conversation resumed.

The quad stretched out before you, still buzzing with its lively energy as you walked away, but the laughter and sunlight felt distant. Each step carried you further from the group, yet the weight in your chest refused to lift. You rolled your shoulders back, trying to shake the lingering discomfort, but it clung stubbornly, an unwelcome echo of the phone call.

Thankfully, with each step, the air began to feel lighter, the distance between you and the group growing wider. But even as you moved further away, the flicker of his face lingered in your mind. Not as a point of intrigue, but as a reminder: Rafe Cameron got everything he ever wanted.

And maybe that was why you didn’t like him. Because you never had.

A childhood that was spent under a microscope, every move dictated, every choice already made. Your father had ensured there was no room for rebellion or freedom, no time to breathe or dream of something different.

While Rafe had likely been breezing through his teenage years on a tide of parties and privilege, you were memorizing ciphers and learning to silence every part of yourself that wasn’t useful. You’d been shaped, molded, and stripped of the very things he took for granted.

He was the kind of person who existed with ease, who took up space as if the world owed it to him. And maybe, in a way, it did.

But this was one round he wouldn’t win. Not with you.

The thought steadied you, a sharp contrast to the unease that had been clawing at your chest. Let him smirk, let him watch. Whatever he thought he was playing at, let him keep playing. Because he didn’t know the rules. He didn’t even know the game.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you from your thoughts. You hesitated for a moment before pulling it out, the screen glowing in the fading sunlight.

unknown: Hope to see you tonight.

You stared at the words, your pulse quickening slightly. Not from fear, but from something harder to name. The message wasn’t signed, but something about it felt deliberate. Intentional.

You let the weight of the text settle, your mind flickering to Rafe almost instinctively. It felt like his kind of move. Subtle but strategic, designed to test you. A flicker of a smirk tugged at your lips before you shoved the phone back into your pocket.

If it was him, it meant he thought he had the upper hand.

But then again, you’d already set the board.

divider: @adornedwithlight

a/n: i've had a couple people ask to be tagged so if you'd also like to be, feel free to comment and lmk!

[thezombieprostitute]

Professional

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: hosting your first new years party

Warnings: Implied stalking. Please let me know if I missed any!

This was it. Time for the big leagues. Usually you were the second-in-command at events but with Lucinda down for the count with the flu, it's time for you to step up. It's not like you haven't prepared for this kind of scenario. And the party itself was pretty straight forward.

Well, except the fact that your clients were government agents. Higher ups in the NSA, CIA, and probably other acronyms. You remember Lucinda bitching up a storm about the background check requirements for every single person who'd be working at this party. Part of you had been scared they'd find something in your own past that you'd long forgotten about that would get you arrested!

As you worked you noticed one of the guests continually looking at you. He's certainly handsome; hair cut short, eyes blue like the sea, just enough stubble to encourage thoughts about how it would feel against your skin. Unfortunately, you need to focus. There are a lot of moving pieces for the party and you can't rest until it's all over. As much as you'd love to walk over and introduce yourself, you are a professional and you will behave as such. Maybe you'll get lucky and he'll stick around afterwards so you can talk to him.

After a couple of hours, with the clock ticking closer to midnight, he seems to get tired of just looking at you from afar and walks over.

"I'm Nick," he introduces himself with a smile that would normally have your legs weak.

You introduce yourself and warn him, "I'm afraid I don't have time to chat, sir. I'm working and there are lots of things that need my attention."

He smirks as he gives a gentle shake of his head, "are you always so professional at your events?"

"Of course, sir. Though usually I'm not the one in charge. Our company has an image to maintain."

"Any chance you'll be getting a break?"

"I'd be surprised," you confess. "I don't mean to be rude, sir---"

"Nick," he corrects you.

"I don't mean to be rude, Nick, sir, but I do need to focus on my work."

"Of course," his smile drops a little. "Maybe I'll see you closer to midnight."

Heat rushes to your face as you smile at the compliment. "Maybe."

It's a few minutes to midnight and your staff is starting to look around, hoping for their own New Year's kiss. You hate being such a taskmaster but there is still work to be done. At least the party is officially over at midnight. Unofficially you know you and yours will be there for at least a few more hours after. Maybe you can give them a minute or two for a kiss. It was only briefly discussed with Lucinda before she got sick.

Your thoughts get interrupted by Nick suddenly appearing in front of you, making you jump a little.

"Sorry about that," he smiles. "Consequence of training, I guess."

You smile back, "that makes sense. Can I help you?"

He looks to the TV screens watching Times Square, "it's almost midnight and I'm not one for kissing without consent."

Giggling you look around. There's no fires, no one's hurting, there's a natural lull in the party as everyone is counting down the seconds. "Okay, Nick. That sounds lovely."

His smile widens and, as you hear the party count down the seconds, he gently brings you in for a kiss. And oh what a kiss it is! You were expecting a quick peck on the lips but Nick is treating it like a first kiss after a date. You lean into him before you catch yourself and carefully push yourself away from him.

"That was...lovely," you breathe. "But I have to get back to work now, sir. Nick! Nick."

"Right," he nods. "Because you're a professional."

Nick watches you walk away, a smile on his face. Tonight's gone better than expected. When he did the background check on you he was intrigued. He wanted to get to know you better.

Seeing you running the show confirmed his decision to get your boss sick. He got to see you in top form and you were amazing. Now he's just gotta wait until your done with work before he can ask for your number, which he already has.

He's happy you seem open to his advances. For a minute he was worried he would have to go to plan C. But this will be much better for the both of you.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[deansbite]

Oh My Angel ? — alec mcdowell

— CONTAINS : girldad!alec | mom!reader | heavy angst | possibly implied child murder ( i do not condone murder nor is this fic in any way shape or form supporting it, it is fanfiction ) | grieving | description of blood | dont read the ending | afab!reader | i refer to reader as you

> PS. @a1ecmcdowell made me do it with her hey june fic ( which ghis fic is heavily ib by ). sorry in advance. + i didn’t proofread

— SUMMARY : an unexpected pregnancy falls onto you & alecs lap, causing you both to have a bumpy ride into parenthood due to the circumstances with The Pulse and your medical care — or well, lack there of. although, it doesn’t get any better when you two get to hold your baby.. it actually just gets worse — but you don’t know it.

THE BEGINNING

I hadn’t expected to find out through Logan, of all people, that somethings been going on with you. He told me, in an unexpected way.. which was whilst I paid him a quick visit, that you’ve been feeling quite unwell, you told him but not me, already strange enough.. And he went on, said that you’ve been having ups and downs regarding your physical health. And, as any normal person would do, I worried.

But, it didn’t take me long before I went to your workplace. Jam Pony — where I worked, aswell. Except it was my day off.

Considering Normal was so very fond of me that I could take any amount of time off without him batting an eye. Being the Golden Boy came with its perks and flaws. Today it was most definitely a perk considering I could just waltz in and ask for you.

“Oh, right over there.” directed me to you with a point of his finger.

I immediately made my way to you, putting one foot in front of the other until I reached you at your locker, shoving some random things in there. “Hey.” I greeted you, my green eyes probably proving to you that I had something on my mind. “Oh.” You didn’t seem quite pleased to see me. You looked surprised — given the fact that it was etched into your expression.

“Don’t look too happy to see me.” I replied, the tone in which I spoke in had an edge of concern to it.

“No — no, it’s not you. I just thought you had your day off.” A moment of silence was exchanged between the both of us. “I do.” I sighed, pressing my lips together. “You don’t look too hot.” I pointed out, with furrowed eyebrows. “I just caught a cold, is all.” You answered. “You sure that’s it? Logan seemed to have other concerns.” I finally remarked, a scoff escaping my lips.

“He told you?!” I heard the pissed off tone in your voice. “Just ‘cause he knew you wouldn’t tell me.” I raised an eyebrow, “Care to tell me what all that is about?”

“Look.. I was meaning to tell you but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it. I just.. well, I thought..” You paused. “Can we continue this conversation somewhere where Max, Cindy and Sketchy can’t hear us?” I pretended to think for a moment. “Maybe.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “You came here to talk to me and when I want too you tell me ‘maybe’ what is your logi —”

“Seems to me you still don’t know when i’m sarcastic, baby.” I stifled a laugh that threatend to escape my mouth. “Oh.. oh you annoying little —”

“I gotta stop you right there. You wanna go somewhere more private or do you wanna keep letting me provoking you?” And with that, you grabbed my forearm and dragged me into the backroom of Jam Pony. I waved to Max and Cindy on the way there. They — especially Max seemed uninterested which got a chuckle out of me.

And then the silence engulfed the both of us. “So..” I started, clearing my throat.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner — I was afraid that you wouldn’t stick around. Considering that..” You paused. It developed into silence with tension that I could slice with a knife. “That..?” I furrowed my eyebrows. “You can tell me anything — c’mon I wouldn’t leave you over something small y’know that rig —”

“I have morning sickness.. and i’m late on my period.”

“I think i’m pregnant, Alec”

BUMPY RIDE INTO PARENTHOOD

IT’S been five whole months. The news were shocking, that was for sure and I took a bit to grow used to that fact. Especially since I had to come to terms that I was becoming a father. I didn’t necessairily have any experience, growing up in a laboratory could do that to someone. I mean, I was taught to be an X5, a soldier, a cold-blooded killer. I wasn’t dealt with the best cards since day one.

And now I had to raise a child. The worst part was, I didn’t even know how. I never had a childhood, how should I give another tiny human one? One that’d have my genetics. The same genetics I was given from dear old Manticore scientists.

You didn’t even know I was a transgenic. I wasn’t sure if you’d still love me or want to keep the child after that ( though, you couldn’t exactly abort it if you didn’t, because medical care was impossible to get after The Pulse ).. Because everyone would react completely normal if they’d get told that ‘our baby could possibly have enhanced abilities because of me, sorry!’.

On the positive side, you began to grow a baby bump. You were glowing. And I honestly tried my best to make this ride as stress-free as possible for you.

With my worst attempts, obviously. To name a couple, I sang Oh My Angel to your growing stomach, a couple lyrics i’ve heard from that song back at Manticore. I would also give you massages and joke around with you randomly and not to mention, tease you so you’d be more focused on being annoyed than the unhinged cravings you so badly wanted to give into.

Another one of them was hanging out with our friends. “We aren’t naming the baby DARCY.” Max butted in, shaking her head. “Name him Max.” She suggested, smirking and looked at you. “Why should we name the baby Max? Are you the baby daddy?” I raised a brow as I asked the question. “No, but i’m gonna be his auntie and teach him all sorts of cool stuff.”

“Cool stuff being.. riding a motorcycle and almost degloving your whole arm more than once.” I commented, a laugh escaping me. “We already have one badass we don’t need our little baby here to be another one who possibly gets killed in a motorcycle crash.” You looked at me, then at Max. “What makes you think it’ll be a boy?” The questioned escaped your lips which made me focus on you for a moment, my eyes lingered over your visible bump and then your face.

“Just a feeling, a girls gotta do when a girls gotta do.” She responded, crossing her legs. “She bet on it with Cindy.” Logan corrected, furrowing his brows. “I gotta get my money.” Max added, confident.

The same day, just a little later when Max left with Logan, I was making some pasta you told me you started craving. I wasn’t a chef, God knows I haven’t touched a pan in the entirety of my time on earth. But considering I had enhanced intelligence and I was a transgenic, it shouldn’t be too hard.

“DARCY ain’t a bad name, is it?” I eventually prompted, stirring the pot of raw pasta, picking it up carefully and making sure I strained the water. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” You answered me pretty simply.

I turned my head over my shoulder, my eyes meeting yours as you sat neatly by the counter. I then placed the empty pot to the side. “Meaning?” I prompted, eyes concentrating on you. “Well, I mean if we hold the baby in our arms, we’ll figure it out.” I processed your words, rolling my shoulders in a shrug. “I suppose.” I then continued on with the pasta.

“How come you’re craving pasta today? I barely see you eating any.” I eventually questioned, currently mixing the pasta with the sauce. “The baby asks, the baby gets.” You stated. “Well, I suppose this’ll be practice for our pasta-loving baby in your stomache.” I noted, my voice playful transferring the pasta to a plate. “I guess so.”

“A plate of pasta for the lady and the little one.” I finally said, picking up a fork and sliding the plate of pasta in front of you on the counter. I observed you picking up the fork. “You seem to be doing a lot of work.. research, too.” You mentioned, which was true. I had been reading up on random parental guide books and asking women with babies at libraries for advice, as awkward as it is.

“I guess I just don’t want to fail our little DARCY.”

DAY 1 / 2556

NEWBORN ADDED TO THE FAMILY

TODAY, our little DARCY was born. I held her little tiny body covered in an equally sized blanket. As anyone can find out pretty easily, we found out our princess’ gender. A little baby girl. She was so little I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. It was the biggest moment of both your life and my own.

I was a father.

I had my own little mini me — mini us in my arms. Her little wailing broke my heart until she calmed down in your arms — and then she was in my own. She was so petite and had the cutest eyes. They were filled with curiosity. I watched as she looked around, no clue in the world. It just made me want to break down into more tears. But I had to stay strong. For our baby. For you.

And for our new little family.

I was afraid. That was something I had to admit. I was afraid — what if I couldn’t be a good father? What if she needed something and I couldn’t give it to her — and you were exhausted so I take care of her and then she starts wailing and screaming — so I stand there cradling her and rocking her back and forth to no avail?

What if she grew up like me?

Became someone like me, a little arrogant and cocky version of me. And no traces of you in her. Apart from physical appearances — because she had your hair color.

And I worry that i’ll be a bad influence on my little princess. Make her keep others at arm length. Because I want her to be like you. I want her to be independent and isn’t afraid to get what she wants. But what if i’ll be in the way of that —? And that causes her to hate me because she grew up to be just like me. A cold hearted soldier.

What if she had enhanced abilities like him? And she would be an outcast all her life.

But then I look down at her in my arms. Her little tear-filled eyes looking up at me. She couldn’t cry because she’s been at it for more than an hour, and her little tear — engine ran out. You’ve been knocked out for a bit. So I spent time with our little baby.

“Hi.” I whispered, feeling my posture soften with her little head tilt to get a better look at me. “Who am I? Who is this big giant holding you in his arms and saying hi to you, little one?” DARCY looked confused which got a chuckle out of me. I never thought I would feel comfortable having a daughter and slipping into the role of a dad especially with my environment when I grew up. But she made it all worth it. All the pain led me down the path to have her.

“C’mon, don’t look at me like that.” I held her close and made sure to support her head as I stepped to the crib in the room, my shoes clanking against the hospital ground. “You got a judgmental glare, little lady, you’re gonna get grounded a bunch when you’re older with that look.” I playfully scolded DARCY with an unintentional parentese I hadn’t noticed I added.

She reached up with her hand barely the size of my fingertip and wrap her miniature fingers around my fingertip.

I felt my heart clench with just how adorable she was being. “I’m sorry, your highness. You win with that cute little move. I surrender. No ones gonna ground you, angel.” and then her eyes fluttered shut. “But I suppose we gotta get you all ready for bed, dont we?”

I rocked her as gentle as I possibly could back and forth, my eyes focused on her.

“Oh my angel,” I started, being careful to do it quiet enough so you wouldn’t stir awake.

“Come back — to me.”

“And I will love you,”

“ 'til eternity.”

“Oh my angel.” I bent over the crib, as cautious as I could to not drop DARCY too fast and make sure to place her down carefully, making sure to remove the blanket she was tucked in to then place ontop of her, so she could still move around. I noticed her little onesie from the hospital. My gaze softened and I watched her chest rise and fall before a quiet voice dragged me out of thought.

“And you were worried that you wouldn’t be a good dad.” You pointed out, I rolled my eyes whilst I turned around to face you. “I don’t know what you’re on about.” I spoke softly and acted clueless.

“Oh, sure you don’t. You totally fell inlove with her the moment you held her.” You murmured. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” I rolled my eyes and approached the side of the hospital bed, leaning over and placing a kiss on your lips. “You just pushed out a whole human from your body.” I mumbled, concern evident in my voice.

“Oh? Is Mr. Cocky concerned about my well-being?” You acted surprised. “Shut up.” I groaned. “You’re so annoying.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Funny considering I used to say that about you.”

“Is it too late to say I hate you?” I grumbled, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Pretty sure it is, yeah.”

DAY 84 / 2556

FIRST SMILE

IT’S been three months since DARCY entered our life. You’ve been working at Jam Pony on and off just helping Normal get packages to deliver considering you just wanted a breather so I decided to take care of DARCY. She’s growing so fast, it’s absurd. I honestly can’t keep up with her.

There are moments where I freeze due to not knowing what I could do to stop her from screaming and crying. It wasn’t often, but it also wasn’t rare. And it made me feel useless.

Because nine times out of ten, whenever I gave her to you, she’d be able to calm down in an instant. It was clear, you were her mother. I wasn’t, and she was spending nine whole months in your womb. But I just wanted to able to care for her without needing you to stop whatever you were doing just to help me out.

With time, I just felt like an awful father. Especially now that you were out and about more often and I was basically a stay—at—home dad and I had a tear-soaked shirt from our baby in my arms.

Though, I feel like I finally did something right. Today she’s been quite observant. Eyes locked onto my face as her hand lifted and she grasped at the fat of my cheek. “Oh — oh, sure I guess.. that’s better than having you crying.” I head to the couch with her bottle in my hand, shaking the baby bottle so the formula can mix well together. With me walking forward, placing one foot in front of the other and having the wooden floorboards creak or groan here and there, with her in my arms, she started to grab at my eyelashes.

I shut the eye she was grasping the eyelashes from and squinted with the other, scrunching my face together. “Attacking and pulling at my innocent eyelashes, are we? That’s very un-lady like, angel.” I scolded lightly — trying to focus on walking and not dropping her or the bottle before settling on taking a seat.

I sat on a beanbag in her nursery and slowly tried to pull her away from my face. I then leaned back on the back — rest part of the sofa and placed her little formula bottle on a nearby table.

My emerald green eyes focused on her. Now I had both arms supporting her tiny chest. She was wearing a soft red onesie with little yellow seed patterns around, like a little strawberry. I lifted her up and down. “Oh.. oh! And she’s taking off!” I gasped and had a very bad attempt at a sound effect of what was supposed to be a rocket taking off as I raised her up, her feet not touching my chest. “She’s up in the sky! And.. whoosh!” I turned her left and right.

“Now she’s coming back down..” I slowly settled her so her weight was supported by my hands and her feet on my chest, before I brought her face to mine. “And she’s getting kisses from her daddy.” I let my lips connect with the soft skin of her cheek, her forehead, head and basically everywhere on her face. “Gotcha!” I said, enthusiastically.

I pulled back DARCY a little to get a good look at her face and then I saw the corners of her tiny mouth curled up into a tiny smile as she swung her hands around from joy.

Her first ever smile. She was precious.

She babbled and giggled, her hands coming up to rest on my face. My emerald green eyes focusing on her emerald green eyes. She looked just like you smiling. She had everything in common with you, physically, apart from the eyes.

“Oh my god, that’s a little smile, isn’t it?” I felt my heart melt at the sight.

“And Mr. Cocky is no longer cocky but a big ol’ softie. Do I call you Mr. Softie now?” I heard you tease as my eyes shot toward you. “Oh — hey, you’re home. Also.. no idea what you’re talking about. Anywho.. well, I thought you had to work the night shift..”

“Normal freaked out when Max threatened to punch him, especially since he supposedly had a date and told us we got to go home earlier.” You explained, putting your things down. “How’s our little girl doing?” You asked whilst she pinched my cheeks and leaned forward, trying to mimic the way I gave her kisses earlier. “Happier than usual.” DARCY then babbled. “See, her highness agreed herself.”

“Dah” DARCY babbled once more, squeezing at my cheek. “Yeah, exactly, Dah.” I nodded and softly pinched her cheek between my index and thumb. “Three months old and she’s babbling and cooing like crazy.” You mentioned, my eyes flew to yours. “Just like you.” I teased, laughing.

“Not true!” You gasped. “In fact, very untrue!”

DAY 152 / 2556

DADDYS WORST NIGHTMARE ; TEETHING

DARCY was five months old now. I was working my ass off to keep her sheltered and safe. I had a whole list of things I had to be very careful with before handling her. She was so miniscule and helpless, relying on both of us to take care of her. Hence why I wanted to keep her as satisfied as possible — well.. as satisfied as you can keep a baby.. which isn’t as easy as other people might make it seem.

Although, today, I had a bottle of milk. So I was going in to feed her some more. And as I tried to put the bottle in her mouth, she looked confused before she started flinging her arms around and spat it out, her eyes filling with tears.

“DARCY? Angel, are you not hungry?” I asked, concern evident in my face. I got up and put the bottle to the side, going to her and I wrapped my arms around her, taking her out of the high chair and cradled her, supporting her head and neck. “Oh, honey.” I frowned as she wailed in my arms, her eyes squeezed shut and mouth open as shouts and cries escaped her. And I reached to take her bib off.

I stood up from the chair and started rocking her, “Princess, what’s wrong?” I whispered, her little arms still flung around as she kept her ear-piercing cry going. “Shh, shh.” I tried to figure out what she could possibly need. She was definitely not hungry. “Are you sleepy? Do you need to burp?”

Safe to say, the rest of the day was me panicking and running around the house, trying to figure out what on Gods green earth she could possibly need. Her cries didn’t stop, at all. Which just made me feel so helpless. My little princess just cried in my arms and I didn’t know how to stop it. God, what type of a father was I? Letting my baby girl cry on for hours.

And then I realized when I was exhausted and holding her in my arms in her little nursery, that teething could be it. I pressed my lips together and before I do something I researched about — because yes, I care enough to do research.. I washed my hands thoroughly, and made my way back to her nursery.

I bent over her crib and gently picked her up once again, she was still sobbing and clung to me. She was relying on me, so I had to do something about it. I sat on a chair, settled on it before making sure she was settled and comfortable on my lap.

Then I put my thumb in her mouth to gently rub her gums. They seemed swollen and that just made my heart ache. DARCY seemed to calm down just a little after I kept up the massaging for a little longer. It seemed to ease my worries, too because I finally felt like I could help her. Be her protecter like I had intended to be. Be there for her unlike me — who had nobody to turn too.

I watched as she opened up her teary green eyes and focused them on me. She seemed curious and still a little in pain, but she just looked at me with her little green orbs.

With a tilt of her head, I relaxed in the chair after what felt like ages. I was exhausted, that was for damn sure. I ran left and right and tried to figure out why she was screaming her tiny little lungs out just for it to be due to teething.

But it was worth it seeing her calm down because I helped her.

DAY 365 / 2556

FIRST WORDS AS A TODDLER

SHE was so little just yesterday — I could’ve sworn she was as big as my bicep just a couple days ago. She used to be a little baby crying over everything with those big tear-filled emerald green eyes. Always spitting out the food I tried to feed her. Refusing to cooperate whenever I tried to change her diapers or even confusing me when she cried for no absolute reason.. And now it was her first ever birthday. She was already moving her mouth as if she were about to speak.

I probably would’ve broken down into tears had I not wanted her to look up to me and wanted to think her daddy was brave. Even if she’d forget everything sooner or later.

Little DARCY already a toddler, running around and picking up random objects. Running back to me because she found something and then shows me how to use it ( visually, we aren’t exactly at the point of verbal yet, she’s still too young for that ). Then she’ll give it to me and wait for me to redo every step she did and then wait for her approval, meaning if I had to do it over again or if she was pleased and let me off the hook.

She was precious. Her little emerald green eyes looked like one of a does. They were so big and innocent. Especially with the fact that she was just barely reached a little more than my knees. She had your face — and hair color.. her skin was a mix of both yours and mine.

Today, she seemed impatient, tugging on the fabric of my pants. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she had the cutest expression — where she tried so hard to look mad but ended up looking just so sweet. Her lips pressed together into a pout and her head tilted up to look at my face. “Mah..” She babbled, and I didn’t think much of it before she whined. “Dada!” And that made me pause.

“Dada..” She so desperately wanted my attention. She softened her expression into just a pout. “Dada!” She repeated, pointing at the sink. “Aba.” Back to her little babbles. She then formed her fingers into a C shape to make it seem like she was holding a cup to then signal that she wanted a glass of water.

I was able to compose myself enough to get what she wanted so she didn’t think I was neglecting her. But she said her first word. “Water?” She nodded and I crouched down just a little to grasp at her little hand. Then I felt her tiny hand in mine.

Her hand was still so tiny in comparison to mine. But enough to be able to hold it in my own. And then I slowly moved to the sink in the kitchen in the same speed as DARCY moved, to not overwhelm her. “C’mon, up goes the elevator.” I told her, crouching down fully and stretching my arms out as she let go of my hand to jump into my arms. Her tiny arms barely wrapping around my neck.

And then I wrapped my arm around her, supporting her body as I slowly rose to my feet, she gasped and giggled as I felt her wiggle her legs once they were off the ground.

I reached up and opened a cupboard, grasping for a cup and turning the tap on. “Cold?” She looked at me confused. “Coo — ld?” I said once again, but slowly speaking out every word before she hesitantly nodded. “Whatever you want, princess.” The water hitting the bottom of the sink repeatedly echoed in the silent room.

I reached forward with the cup and filled it with water. “Who am I?” She let one arm go to close and open her hand repeatedly, mimicing a ‘gimme, gimme’ motion.

“Dadaaa!” She huffed, very obviously annoyed with the angry expression. Which reminded him of you. “You two could be the same person.” He grumbled under his breath. “I am dada, yes, good job, angel.” I snickered and brought the cup to her lips. “Drink up.” I watched as her free hand grasped the cup that was bigger than her hand and try to hold it alongside my own hand. “Good girl.” I said, removing the cup from her mouth.

“Drank all of it so quick. You were really thirsty.” I commented, heading to a towel with her in my arm and wiping her mouth with it, all so carefully.

I then tried to place her back on the ground but she refused. “Bah.” She shook her head and I brought her back up into my arms, adjusting my hold on her. “But you’re a big girl, you can walk, princess.” She looked insulted, clearly. And then I laughed, which caused her to break her little act and cause a giggle to escape her lips.

She doesn’t even know the lengths i’d go to be able to keep that smile on her face.

DAY 730 / 2556

UNUSUAL BEHAVIOUR

SHE looked at me with her arms crossed over her chest. “No!” the word that she’s learnt from no other than you. You were being sassy to me and DARCY overheard, which then made her believe that she could be just like you even more and decide to go against my every word. Today being no different. She was throwing yet another tantrum. “You have to sleep, princess.” I was crouching and cupping her face.

“I not sleepy.” She pouted with furrowed eyebrows. “What if we snuggle, hm?” I suggested, raising an eyebrow. She seemed to think about it. “I can join.” You butted in, crouching beside me. “Whad’ya say, little miss?” I questioned, a grin on my face. “But.. blankie evil!”

We both exchanged a look between eachother. “Blankie evil? How? Tell us, we’ll protect you.” I said, slowly ripping my gaze off you and onto the tiny two-year old rascal.

“Blankie trapped me!” She whined. Which elicited an over-exaggerated gasp from me. “No! Really?” You added, jaw dropped. She nodded her head up and down in a quick motion. “Do you have a boo—boo?” I asked, my voice in a low whisper. “Boo—boo?” You bit back a laugh as you looked at me. “Shut up.” I said through gritted teeth.

“No..” DARCY answered my question pretty much quickly after. “And we’ll both be there for you and save you if blankie tried to trap you.” I told her, pressing a light kiss on the top of her head. Her eyes darted between both you and me. Her eyes brighter than ever. “Promise?”

I blinked, “I promise, princess.” I looked over to you. “I promise, too.”

I wasn’t expecting parenting to be easier than what I imagined it to be ( obviously, considering I was the one who thought that ). But in all honesty, I thought raising DARCY would be catastrophic. Explosions and world war breaks out. But I seemed to be doing well — so far. At least I hoped so. She seemed at ease around me. Or maybe that was because of you.

Because you’ve been doing a great job, honestly. It was shocking how well you kept up mentally and were able to stay strong — especially given the fact that you didn’t exactly have DARCY with your own choice. You didn’t have a choice because abortions were hard to get your hands on now — a — days.

I couldn’t help but think. Of course, you tell me I was a good father. But I simply just dropped the asshole act around her. She seemed to have loads of your characteristics.. which I was glad about.

And then I got brought back to now. I was holding her hand alongside yours as I head up the stairs — yes, stairs. I know my apartment doesn’t have stairs within the apartment but.. well, I may or may not have stolen some cash from a rich dude and bought a better house for DARCY to be able to live in. But hey.. no judging — i want

only the best for my little girl.

I watched as she struggled on a couple stairs before bending over slightly and picking her up, holding her close to my chest with my arm supporting her weight. I did almost slip.. and fall, but you holding my hand managed to balance me. “I will not be thanking you.” I replied, in a way more sassy tone than I intended. “Oh, okay, I hope you know I hear all that sass.” I rolled my eyes and kept going up.

“Good for you.” I heard you let out a laugh. “Your cocky and arrogant behaviour used to make me so mad — now it’s just funny because you’re so gentle. Who knew being a girl dad could change a man this much?”

“Uppie!” DARCY randomly blurted out whilst clapping her hands together and her eyes flew between me and you. “Yes, baby, uppie.” You replied, your motherese slipping out. “Says the one who became so freakin’ cute after having a baby.” I pointed out, a stupid grin on my face. Then I felt DARCY shift around in my arms once we reached her room.

“Look, daddys got you, princess, blankie won’t hurt you.” I reassured her, rubbing her back with my free hand and urged you to follow us into the room.

She looked around the room frantically, as if her blanket would come out and attack her. But, I read up and already knew kids could have irrational fears at her age. Hence why patience was all she needed including a bit of safety so she knew that she had nothing to be afraid of. “Can you grab her stuffed animals?” I whispered to you, slightly rocking my body back and forth.

“Mhm.” I watched you go around her bed and bend over, picking up her rabbit stuffie and dinosaur stuffie. “Look who’ll be joining us!” DARCY gasped. “Mr. Din-din!” I slowly lowered her on the ground as she rushed over ro your side.

“Mr. Car-car!” I crossed my arms over my chest and laughed. She was so happy about them it was absolutely heart-warming. She then raised her arms up at you, opening and closing her hands. “Me want up!” She pouted before you picked her up and handed her the two stuffed animals. “You gotta sleep, honey.” We both said simultaneously. “Otay..” ( that’s literally how she pronounced it, don’t make fun of me )

DARCY then got brought to her bed, you placed her down ever so gently. She seemed freaked about the blanket but nonetheless, I settled on the bed beside her alongside you on the other side of her. “Snuggles!” She exclaimed, grinning. And then I wrapped an arm around her, meanwhile you threw her blanket over all of us, yes, including the stuffed animals.

“Daddy..” She whined, grasping at the white fabric of my tee. You turned behind you to turn on her night light and then I focused on her. “Yes, princess?”

“Song sing..” I paused, “You want the song?” She nodded eagerly in response. My eyes shot to yours and you shuffled around on the tiny bed to fit yourself onto the tight space and cuddle up to her other side.

“Anything you want, princess.”

DAY 1095 / 2556

NEW THINGS GOOD & BAD

DARCY was playing around, as usual. A three year old should start to get around more and do things. I read that in a book — yes, I read when I want too. I am a transgenic and intelligent.. doesn’t mean I knew how to raise children. So, I sat down and I read a book about how children act throughout the years. I wanted to be the best daddy for my princess — or prince if DARCY were a boy, of course.

Speaking of her, she took me out of my train of thoughts. “Daddy! Look, that.. that is one tree!” She shouted, pointing at it, she was extremely proud of herself as she ran around on the playground. I was sat on a picnic blanket next to you. “Good job, sweetheart.” You shouted and clapped, cheering her on.

“Careful, angel. Don’t fall!” I yelled, intensely watching her as she began to run around as fast as she could. I lifted my eyes off her for a moment and glanced at you. “I never expected to have a little family with you.. this soon. And.. see DARCY so happy with the.. pulse, trashy town and all.” I finally admit to you, watching as you glared at me. “Me either.”

“She reminds me of you.” I mentioned, my emerald green eyes focused on yours.

“And she reminds me of you, too.”

I leaned forward, cupping your face, connecting my lips with yours, feeling you kiss back.

A shriek made me jump back, eyes wide. “What? —” You looked surprised, too. And my eyes searched around the park. My eyes landed on DARCY laying on the concrete, holding her leg in pain. I immediately sprang toward her, hearing you close behind me. “Angel, angel! Baby, i’m here, i’m here.” I reassured her immediately whilst dropping down onto my knees.

“Are you okay?” You asked, holding the back of her head and helping her sit up slowly. She had tear—filled eyes. “It hurts.” She whined, shaking her hands around and wailing in pain.

“Angel..” My eyes inspected her head, trying to see if theres any injuries there. I didn’t catch any so I inspected her legs, and then I noticed her pants torn open at the knee, she scraped her knee on the concrete. I hissed at the blood that stained the dark fabric. “It’s okay, we’re here. Y’know what, scratch me.” She shook her head. “I dooon’t— wanna hurt you.” She dragged out a couple letters due to her crying.

“Can you bring the medkit?” I asked you, raising an eyebrow. “You brought a medkit? ” “Just incase something like this happened. It’s in my bag.” I pressed a kiss on your cheek before holding up DARCYs head.

“It’s okay, daddy’s here and i’ll make sure it’ll all go away.” I whispered, easing her fears as I picked her up gently and placed her on my lap.

I watched as her emerald green eyes followed you as you ran back. You crouched down, opening up the medkit and beginning to scramble for items. “Sterile wipes for the wound.” I said, eyes focusing on DARCY. “Antiseptic for around the room.”

You gathered everything, “How do you even know all this? I didn’t know you studied medicine —” “Not medicine, just got a lotta wounds to patch up.” It was a half—lie.

DARCY winced when you began the cleaning but I tilted her head up, pointing at a bird in the sky. “Look! That’s a birdd.” I added some more toning to the word bird, and she looked curious. “Can birds fly?” “Yes, angel.” “Can we?” “With a plane.” “What is.. a plane?” “A metal box that can bring us places in the sky.” “Can we go on one?” “Soon.” I laughed at her suddenly forgetting about her wound and jumping to ask questions almost immediately.

“Has daddy had ouchies before?”

“Mhm.”

“Are ouchies bad?”

“I think of ouchies like.. you went through an adventure, the scar of an ouchie reminds you of it. Ouchies can be good and bad.” I tried to make her look at the positive.

“So.. is my ouchie cool?”

“It’ll heal and be the coolest thing ever.” I paused, thinking what to say next. Before I parted my lips, sucking in a breath, “New things can be good and bad. It just matters how you handle it, angel.”

DARCY looked at me with big, curious eyes. “New things.. can.. can be gooood and bad.” She slowly repeated, making sure each word was the same way I pronounced it, tilting her head. “New things.. can be good and bad!” She repeated, this time much more confident with how she said it.

“Exactly.”

DAY 1461 / 2556

PUDDLES AND RAIN

DARCY was just growing up — way too fast. I mean, I could just.. remember her being tiny and — her tiny fingers barely overlapping when they curled around my finger. And now here she was, going backwards and telling me too — “Look! Daddy. I can walk!” I laughed, nodding. “Backwards.” I corrected, crossing my arms over my chest.

We were quite a bit away from home since I picked her up from Logans place — since both he and Max offered to babysit so me and you had time for ourselves. And, lucky for us, it started raining when I had no rain jacket with me and brought one for her just incase.

So now I was soaking wet and having to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, like run onto the street and get hit by a car.

But the only stupid thing she was doing was genuinely just.. stupid toddler things. And I didn’t complain. That over — deadly stupid things. And she seemed to be having fun. Until — “Daddyy, can we dance?” I was baffled. “In the rain?” My voice was filled with surprise. “Pleasee.” Her tiny, high-pitched voice caused me to break.

“Fine.” And so I reluctantly agreed, reaching out and spinning her around in a puddle. As she stomped whilst dancing and proceeded to splash me with it. “Oh my god —” I bursted out laughing. “Oopsie..” She exclaimed, covering her mouth in surprise that she did that.

I rolled my eyes playfully.

“You’re such a little rascal.”

And she reminded me of you.

DAY 2191 / 2556

HEART OF GOLD

OUR little girl all grown up. Six years old was — an accomplishment. For me.. at least. Especially in this environment and.. the wages we had to live off of. You were still working at Jam Pony, full time whilst I went back to work on and off. Taking care of our girl was most important.

I always wondered how she grew up. Given the circumstances. I wondered if we — I fucked her up in some way.

Having a transgenic as your father could fuck you up in ways — you just wouldn’t notice. At least, until now, I found no trace of her being a transgenic-human mutant thing. Like me. Again, only thing we had in common, our eye colour nothing more, thankfully.

But God, she had a heart of gold. For example, we walked past a garden and she noticed an little boy upset. And she head toward her. “Hi!” She greeted, all cheerful and happy. That big grin displayed upon her lips. “Hi.”

“My name’s DARCY.” A moment of silence exchanged between them “Mine is.. Peter.” “Daddy told me being alone when sad isn’t always...what people want.” DARCY waited a moment before adding, “Do you.. want to be alone?” “No..” Peter replied. And with that, she stood there. And she began making conversation. She was smiling and giggling the whole time. Peter slowly joined along. Her laugh mingling with his in the air.

I was sure she made his day by being so warm and friendly.

Wonder how she got so wise.

DAY 2555 / 2556

GOODBYES

TODAY was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

I couldn’t say that one single word. It was too much. Saying that one word made it official. Too official. I just can’t — right? I should be protecting her. Not whatever i’m doing. I can’t. I should be fighting for her. No child should hear the word ‘Goodbye’. I am the worst father in the world. A disgrace. I got a gift, a blessing. My DARCY. And i’d be throwing it in the trash.

They told me they‘re going to get her and

The ink was blotchy from there forward, making the words unreadable. Fingertips went beneath the next page, a moment of hesitation. You turned the page.

DAY DAY 2556 / 2556

?

SHES gone. I failed her.

JOURNAL ENTRIES ; FINISHED

WHAT THE FUCK?

The journal ended there. Confusion and fear filled you reading those pages. Why did he keep track of her since birth? Was Alec insane? Did he do something to DARCY? Those questions lingered in your head far longer than anticipated. You knew your little girl had been gone for a month or so. But Alec seemed too busy at the Crash, drowning himself in alcohol.

Even though he never got drunk.

You didn’t know why. It was fucking strange. You spent hours looking for her. And then you stumbled upon a box. Hidden in the ceiling in a little box in the corner. And you found thirteen journals. Each year — except seven had two journals he could write all 365 days in. But he highlighted some.

Were those his favorites? Did he lose his shit and imagine someone came after your daughter when in reality, he was the danger all this time? You shook your head. You shouldn’t try to get conspiracy theorist on a guy who spent day and night showering her with love.

He must’ve had a logical explanation. Right?

Tears filled your eyes. You prayed you were wrong. That you didn’t stay with the man who ultimately turns your life upside down for some sick reason.

And for DARCYS sake.

“I didn’t fucking do anything to her! Why are you accusing me of such utter bullshit!?” Alec shouted, he was fuming. “I loved her to fucking pieces! That was the only wrong I did. I made those journals to read back incase I forgot anything!? Is that such a fucking crime?!”

You stared at him. “Your last entry?” “If you wanna kep on with your conspiracy theories, what’s the fucking point?!”

STRAIGHT TO THE POINT

Alec glared at the men beside Elizabeth Renfro. “As you may know.. manticore was.. well, burnt to the ground. And I.. well, I made another one just incase.. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She trailed off topic due to Alecs disgusted yet surprised stare. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Max told you that? Did she ever bother to check my pulse before leaving?” She questioned. Alec went silent. “As I was saying. You’ve got a pretty little partner. Young.. sweet, inlove with you.” Alec scoffed. “Get to the fucking point you old shit —” “They’re pregnant.” “Surprise..? I don’t know where the fuck this is going.” Alec rubbed his temple in frustration.

“We want the child.”

“Over my dead body.”

“I assumed you’d say that. Well, X5-494. You give me the child with legal rules or we will kill your family.” Alec stared at her in disbelief. “You wouldn’t kill a pregnant person —” She laughed, “Oh, no, I wouldn’t. They would, though.” She gestured to the men behind her. “The offer I give you is better than what others wanted. You see.. you can keep the child until the age of seven. After the seventh birthday, my men will get the child. And if you are lucky enough and the child is human.. you’ll get them back. However, if not, we’ll keep them.”

“Fuck you, you sick bitch.” He spat, utterly disgusted by her. “We’ll send you the contract soon.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.” She said with a smile.

MY BABY

Alec stopped pacing, now leaning over the kitchen counter with his hands on his face. “I am a fucking transgenic. A human-like scientist experiment designed to be a fucking soldier. I escaped but manticore seemed to fuck me in the ass.” Alec ran his hands through his hair. “They made a deal to get her at seven years old. If not, they would’ve killed you.” He explained, not really caring if you decided to believe him or not, anymore.

“You’re insane.” You told him, with a shaky voice. “Believe whatever the fuck you want.” Alec was staring at the counter. All he could think of was his baby.

You immediately scrambled to get out of there. You grabbed a few vital things you needed before making yoir way out. “You should’ve helped her, you monster.” Was all he heard from you before his ears echoed the front door slamming shut. Now he was alone with his thoughts. Fuck.

“Daddy?” DARCY called out, heading to the kitchen. Her beady emerald green eyes focusing on me. “I lost my bag at school toooday.” She explained. Alecs gaze softened when his eyes landed on her. He lowered himself onto his knees to be eye level with her. “That’s okay, angel, we can get you a new one.” He reassured, tears filling his eyes.

“Are you okay, daddy? Why are you crying?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with concern when she should’ve been happy.

“I failed you.” He whispered, hands reaching out to her. “No you didn’t.” She shook her head and wrapped her tiny arms around him. “I love you, daddy.” And then the tears kept flowing. As he went to wrap his arms around her figure — she vanished. And everything seemed empty once again.

He was on his knees, hallucinating his fucking daughter. He has lost it.

OH , MY ANGEL

There was an empty promise I gave DARCY when she was still tiny. ‘I will always protect you.’ And it was outright nonsense. Because he knew from the start he had limited time with her. The journals were to honour her memory — incase..

But that wouldn’t happen. Because he was now going into the manticore building to see his little angel. Have her in his arms again. As long as they haven’t finished their testing — they allowed him to see her now. He wasn’t ready to see her. Seeing her trapped in the very place he was stuck in and so desperately wanted to get out of.

Max was waiting for him outside just incase. And he entered the freshly made Manticore building through the big.. doors.

Two soldiers guided him down the hall. He wasn’t sure what to feel when his eyes flew around the place. The place looked like a mental institution. White, glossy walls paired with gray, marble floor. His eyebrows furrowed in hesitation when a guard put a keycard into some sort-of machinery next to some metal doors.

Uncertainty filled him but he proceeded. Stepping forward. One foot in front of the other. Ever so carefully. His eyes darting around for any bad sign.

And he got what he was looking for.

His heart dropped. And his ears started having a high-pitched ring. The hallway that led to the room the guards brought him too —

Blood.

A path of blood. It was smeared from the room down the hall. It slowly started disappearing at one point.

He paused. The thick maroon colored liquid was blending with the gray floor. He forgot how to breathe, his eyes welled up with tears. And then the guards brought him closer to the room. A bigger puddle of that thick, deep red colour. It was so vibrant — and it most likely came from his little girl.

He had failed her.

He was doomed to be a terrible father from the start.

The song he sang to her seemed hypocritical now. Because it could be interpreted as him singing about her.

“This fire in my — heart,”

“consumes my — happiness.”

“Since we.. are apart,”

“I have nothing.. to hope for,”

“I have nothing.. to cling to.”

“Life for me — has no meaning darling,”

“if I have — to live — it without you.”

“Oh my angel,”

“come back — to me.”

“And I will.. love you,”

“ ‘til eternity”

“Oh my angel.”